What the heck does "healthy" even mean?

Recent events have led me to reevaluate every portion of my life. Before all of this happened, I was ready to move to Stillwater, start life as a grad student/aspiring writer, and get in the best shape of my life. Now that it's seeming like Tucker's going to make it through this, I have to piece my life together as best I can, and make sure I'm living a good life that can lead myself and others to mental and physical health.

I went on my first diet at the end of my sophomore year in high school. I'd always been a little thick and more muscled than other girls my age, but when I stepped on the scale and saw that I weighed 181, I knew I wanted to lose weight.

Sophomore prom, right around 180 lbs.

I "successfully" lost weight and dropped down to a "healthier" weight of 161 at the lowest.
I looked thin, but I was obsessed about what I could or couldn't eat and spent the majority of my day thinking about what I would eat next.

Right around 165, after volleyball camp, before junior year.

I'd finally started to find some balance between my diet and fitness when I tore my ACL.

The brace did make for a good prop though.

I don't handle injuries well. By the end of the ordeal, I packed on all the weight I had lost and more. By the time my doctor cleared me for regular physical activity, I weighed 192 pounds.

Senior homecoming, right around 190lbs.

I didn't weigh myself over that six months, so I don't know whether that was my heaviest or not. I had a dream of competing in state weightlifting (since I'd broken 3 out of the 4 school records in the 165 weight class my junior year). So, I started dieting again. I did a little better about maintaining a healthy outlook, by eating healthy and just going for a 3 mile walk every evening. Six months later, I weighed 164 pounds and placed third at state weightlifting.

Here I am doing my absolute least favorite thing... in public. I weighed about 168 lbs here.

After that, I went to college and hovered around 175. I didn't diet hard, but I tried to work out at least a few times a week. It seemed like that was a healthy weight for my body.

My first/last/only picture with Willie. I weighed about 175.

Fast forward a year and a half and I returned from study abroad, sitting at 185 pounds.

It doesn't help when you have someone as handsome as Ty as your posing partner! (Weight is about 185.)

Also, the giant ice cream cones didn't help. #IIFYM

I started getting nervous, made resolutions with Ty to work out and get strong and healthy, so we signed up for a Crossfit membership.

I stayed around the same weight for my two months of Crossfit, but I got so much stronger. This is me around 184-188 lbs.

I loved Crossfit. It combined weightlifting, which I loved, and the competitive nature of high school sports, which I missed. Unfortunately, two months in, I sustained a back injury, which was only successfully diagnosed two months ago. A bulging disc. My back hurts almost all the time and it's taken all of my willpower to keep working out. I gained another ten pounds and now I'm sitting around 194--my heaviest weight ever.

I've gotta say... it's a pretty good looking 194 lbs. :)

I know I need to make some changes in order to be healthy. I realized one of the most important things in my life is to be able to do a cartwheel. (I know it sounds weird, but I explain it here.) So I'm trying to think about what healthy is to me. I'm trying to think about what I need to do to live well, so I'm making a list.

1. Start each day by sharing a cup of coffee with Jesus. Sure, I pray every night before bed and I send God a few prayers throughout the day, but I want to make scheduled dates with him other than on Sundays. I want to go to daily mass at least one day a week, and the other days of the week spend fifteen minutes in the morning getting to know Him better.
2. Let people know they are loved. After this whole deal, I've thought back to all my interactions with Tucker. It all boils down to one thought: Did he know how much I love him? Now the answer is "I think so" but in the future, if I'm ever wondering that question, I want it to be a resounding "yes." So every day, I will try to do something so someone in my life knows that someone cares about them.
   
3. Continue writing. Writing is a therapy and a passion for me. Writing time is not wasted time, so I want to know that I'm spending a couple of hours every other day doing something that makes me happy.
4. Exercise 3-4 times a week. Exercise benefits people in so many ways, and I need to invest in myself. My body is a temple, and I need to care for it as such.
   
5. Recreate my relationship with food. I hate depriving myself of anything. I need to treat "depriving" myself more like caring for myself so I can sustain whatever weight loss I have from living this healthier lifestyle.
   
6. Less Facebook, more face time. Facebook has been a way for me to feed my social anxiety and avoid meeting with people face to face. That's gotta change. On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs, social contact with other human beings is incredibly important for happiness. In a new place it will be especially hard, but one of my favorite phrases is "life begins outside of your comfort zone." Well, life is in session.
7. Don't let school consume my life. As an undergrad, I was obsessed with building my resume. I had a 4.0, community involvement, leadership skills, and no life. This time around, I'm going to ease off of resume building, and focus on life building.

There are a few general things I want to keep in mind: having a loving heart, being slow to anger (I really need to work on that one), being patient, actively seeking out new adventures, keeping a grateful attitude, and fully recovering from my back injury.

So, great, I have these seven steps and moral goals, and sure, seven is a lucky number, but how is that supposed to affect my life? Well, I'm still myself, and that means that I'm going to write every single one of these things into my planner and check them off of my to-do list each day. In my perfect day I would be able to do all seven of those things, but I can't. There's not enough time and I don't want to burn out.

I'm going to have some of the items be every day things, and some every other day to work on keeping balance. I'll shop and meal prep once a week so I can make sure I'm giving myself healthy options. The additional benefit is that since I'm living on a grad student stipend, I'll need to pinch pennies wherever I can and meal prep will help. For exercise, I'll attend the group classes that the Oklahoma State University rec center offers to keep working out fun and interesting, and that can double as some face time.

This is my tentative fitness schedule. I'm planning to have a big poster in my home so I can check off items as I complete them, and so I can see how consistent I'm being with my goals.

A few weeks ago (I can't believe it's been that long) when Mom and I were talking with her personal trainer, he told us that it takes a year to make a fitness habit. After a year, it's a part of your life, and you're more likely to stick with it. 

Planning is going to be key. I'll stick with this loose layout for a month, and then once the month is over, I'll reevaluate my goals and how well the system is working. A month is long enough to get settled into the habit, and also long enough to decide what I need to tweak to make it better. 

It seems like everyone's trying to get healthy. There are so many posts all over social media of photo-shopped women with six-pack abs, and augmented breasts, and it's hard to realize that that's not really realistic and it's not always healthy, and most of them have dedicated their entire lives to diet and exercise for years.

There are so many opinions about healthy living, and so much of it is absolute crap. So many people say you have to eat organic to be healthy. Research has proven that organic food isn't any healthier than conventionally raised food. They warn against BST (bovine growth hormone in dairy cattle that increases milk production) which our body processes as a protein and doesn't harm us at all. They warn against GMOs. The protein they engineer into corn comes from a bacteria that organic growers spray on their plants as a natural pesticide. Even the WHO claimed red meat is a carcinogen, without considering other dietary factors. (For example, a lot of red meat is grilled, and the char on the meat is a carcinogen.) The truth is, we know more about how to create a healthy, balanced diet for pigs than people. 

Crazy, we know.

The best thing we can do is eat foods in a good balance (protein, carbs, and fats), stay active, and stay mentally healthy. Learning about myself and what works has been a lifelong system of trial and error, so hopefully this is getting me on a better track.

Update on Tucker #2

Today was a better day. For first time in several days, he got a good night of sleep, and the nurses were able to stay on top of his pain. It's been a constant struggle to find a medication schedule that keeps him from being in excruciating pain.

This afternoon he was joking with us, talking with us like he would pre-injury, and flirting with his CNA. He introduced her to us as the "love of his life." I'm not going to lie, she's a really special girl with a heart of gold.

Flirting highlight of the night?

Tucker: Is your boyfriend bigger than me?
CNA: Yeah. He's about your height, but he's a little bigger.
Tucker: Oh shit.
Pause
Tucker: He wouldn't hit an injured guy would he?

People keep telling us to write down some of the stuff he's saying, but honestly, Tucker's pretty funny even when he's not on a myriad of pain medications.

People are talking to my parents about the future for Tucker. He has a long road before him. As far as permanent damage, we probably won't know until we're on the other side of this. But, one concern is that he might lose his eyesight. If everyone could say a prayer for his eyesight to recover, that would be a huge help.

Soon, they expect to transfer him to a rehabilitation center in Denver for traumatic brain injuries. There he'll undergo occupational therapy, physical therapy, and some other therapies I can't remember, for eight hours a day Monday through Friday. Getting well is definitely a full time job.

God's already worked so many miracles with Tucker. Here's to hoping that Tucker will continue healing mentally and physically.

When was the last time you did a cartwheel? - A letter to me

Sometimes the brevity of life slaps you in the face. Something happens and all of a sudden the little box you were living in is turned upside down, leaving you and all the other contents of your neatly-packed life tumbling through the darkness.

As you're falling, you think about your life. Always, always, always the things you were working towards so fervently take up residence at the bottom of the priority list, and the things you were neglecting, become all you can see.

You think about the people you've loved but neglected, the vacations you never had enough time for, the letters you never wrote, the wrongs you've never apologized for, and every single thing you would do to make that special someone feel all the love you hold in your heart.

You think about when life became a to-do list instead of a quest of discovery and the expression of art, love, and adventure.

When did you outgrow the best parts in your life? Have you forgotten the rush of accomplishment after doing a cartwheel? Do you remember eating raw cookie dough and not worrying about getting a disease? Do you miss falling asleep on the couch to a good movie just because you didn't want to get up and go to bed? How about the warmth you get when you hug your grandma? Or the pleasure of letting sand grind between your toes, and not having to worry about it making a mess in the car on the way home? When's the last time you danced to music without wondering what people would think of you? When did you stop putting on beautiful dresses, just to parade around the house? How could you stop going outside to lay on the trampoline and look up at the stars, no matter how cold it got?

When you start taking yourself a little too seriously, or life gets a little to hard, ask yourself this question:

When was the last time I did a cartwheel?

In the aftermath

Over the last week, my family's been in the hospital with my younger brother, Tucker. He's in a lot of pain, and so are we. He wakes up screaming in pain, confused because his eyes are swollen shut, and unaware of what happened with only a fuzzy idea of where he is. Recovering from what he went through is a lot of effort, time, and is extremely painful.

I know nothing we feel can even compare to what he is enduring, but I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we would gladly take away his pain and bear it for him. There's no physical pain I've experienced as painful as watching him suffer.

This pain we're all feeling has brought so many emotions to the surface; sadness, anger, confusion, regret, bitterness to name a few. It's been the single most difficult thing for me as an individual, my relationship with my husband, my relationship with my other siblings, and my relationship with my parents. We're all burdened with our own demons and they're so close to getting out.

I wonder how other families have made it through this... I'm plenty haven't, because I can feel something breaking on the inside. A pain so immense that it feels like I'm being split into two persons; the old Kelsie who was struggling to become a (paid) author and preparing for graduate school, and the Kelsie who is so wracked with anxiety, struggling to stay strong, and ready to drop anything at any second just to ease his suffering by one little bit.

He's my youngest brother, and in a way it feels like I'm watching my own child suffer. It's hard not to feel guilty. I have to remind myself that he had a mental disease, and that sometimes diseases are latent and hard to detect.

I'm overjoyed he's still with us. That night, driving 100 mph to the house, not sure whether I would find my brother alive or dead, is burned into my mind. I know I could be so much sadder right now, but it's still hard to cope.

When I started writing this post, I thought it was going to be this insightful look into how families react to suicide, and it's more like me driving in the thick haze of my own emotions. Maybe one day we'll sort it out and be okay, but right now "okay" seems so far away from all of us.

Update on Tucker

On Christmas night, my little brother, Tucker Hoss, attempted to end his life. We were having a Christmas party at Savannah's house, and he went home without much notice, which isn't unusual for Tucker. He was found on the floor with a bullet wound and a gun lying beside him. He was still alert but in pain. 911 was called and he was brought to Goodland. There he was intubated and sedated so he would be calm, and relieved from his pain. After a few hours of waiting, Tucker was flown to Denver where he is currently receiving treatment. He seems to be stable, and the bulk of his treatment is pain management and infection prevention. Mentally, Tucker seems fine. He's been cracking jokes, flirting with his nurses, and talking with his family members. Tucker's biggest challenges now are some bleeding in the brain, heavy swelling of his eyes and face, the possibility of permanent blindness, and anxiety relating to not being able to see where he is.

When Tucker was alert enough to talk, Mom and Dad told him about why he's in the hospital--by the suggestion of his psychiatrist--Tucker told them that he had been thinking of suicide but didn't think he would go through with it. No one noticed any warning signs, or anything strange.

It's hard to see him in so much phsyical pain. It's unbearable to know that prior to the incident that he was in so much mental pain he felt suicide was the only way to make it stop... and so sad that he didn't talk to us so we could let him know how much we love him or so we could get him help.

Even though Tucker has a long way to recovery, we're so glad that he's still with us, so that now we can tell him how much we love him. God worked a miracle by keeping him with us this long, and I can't thank God enough for that miracle.

Please, take the time to pray for him. Pray for his recovery--mentally and physically, pray that he can feel God's overwhelming, restorative love, that he will know how many people care for him, that some of his sight will return, and that he will keep progressing towards living a full, long, healthy life.

Redefining Failure-Suicide Attempts

Suicide attempts.

Success.

Failure.

Over the last few days, all I've been able to think about is my baby brother, life, death, God, heaven, hell, and suicide.

It's strange to me that when someone survives a suicide attempt, it's referred to as a failed attempt.

Failed.

As if the intentions of someone so ill that death seemed the only cure could determine the description of the act.

 Because "failure" the greatest success that could possibly follow a suicide attempt.

"Failure" is another chance at life.

"Failure" is a chance at treatment.

"Failure" is the beginning of a new life.

"Failure" is life-changing.

"Failure" let's us tell him how much we love him.

We prayed for "failure."

We begged God that he would "fail."

We consider "failure" a miracle.

I thank God every second for "failure."

For anyone to ever refer to a suicide attempt as a failed attempt is the height of ignorance. No success comes from a person falling to suicide, and no failure comes from surviving illness.

 Suicide is a symptom of a disease. A person must have suffered so much at the hands of mental illness to consider death a cure to life.

Society fails us when suicide is attached to the person and not to the disease. How ridiculous would it be for someone to say there was a failed attempt at cancer? No one would ever say there was a failed bacterial infection, or a failed pneumonia, or an attempted death of natural causes.

We live inside our minds.

We need to create a culture where mental health isn't stigmatized. I want to live in a world where a coworker or classmate would be just as comfortable telling me about seeing a therapist for depression as telling me about seeing a doctor for a flu.

But, for now, it's not. So here I am, thanking God for "failure."

Epiphany for you, epiphany for you, epiphanies for everyone!

Laying around sick has a few advantages. Literally, only three (that I can think of at this exact moment in time).

1) Time to watch an entire season of America's Next Top Model (cycle 22). Side note: Currently considering applying for the next cycle... Lawwwd have mercy if that ever comes to fruition.

2) Time to write blogs about whatever I want.

3) Time to have thoughts. (Trying to have good ones.)

So I was working on my personal statement for graduate school, and reflecting on my time as an undergraduate student, and I got to thinking about study abroad, and how it changed my life. I wondered how I could enjoy being in a new country so much, but be so frustrated by being so lost in Nashville, and it dawned on me:

I was most comfortable with being lost when I was being lost on purpose.

Ty didn't understand it immediately, so I gave him this comparison: It's like when you're trying to take a selfie, and you can't take a really pretty one, so you just take an ugly duckling face selfie instead, and love it, because at least you're being ugly on purpose.

Ty's not a girl or conceited, so he didn't get my analogy either.

This epiphany isn't really life changing, it's more like life acknowledging, and it truly resonated with me. I'm not completely sure what that means, but I'm going to think on it and keep you posted.

An obviously objective oddball observation of typical sayings regarding high school, college.

Once I started high school, I was constantly reminded that high school is supposed to be the best time of your life. "You'll make great friends," they said. "You won't have the kind of responsibilities that you will later on," they said. "You will have fun," they said... Well, to put it succinctly, I'm still waiting on all of that. And frankly, if high school was supposed to be the best years of my life, that would have been incredibly sad, and I wouldn't have had much to look forward to.

Fastforward four years to high school graduation.

"Okay, actually, college will be the best time of your life," they said. "College is way better than high school," they said. "You'll make your best friend for life," they said. Well, three years, one marriage, five organizations, 124 credit hours, 13 countries, five part-time jobs, and one language later, I'm still questioning the validity of those statements.

College will be the best time of your life: Well, I've had good times, and I've had some really difficult times. I'd say some highlights were marrying Ty, getting straight A's, being honored as "Chancellor of the Year" in a national honors fraternity, and studying abroad. But, there have also been really difficult times. Obviously, it doesn't do well to dwell on those, and no one wants to hear about impending student debt, losing an advisor, sleepless nights, crying breakdowns in another advisor's office, yelling at the registrar, unreturned emails, and personal problems, so I'm just going to skip right on past that. ;) IF these are the best times of your life, what's the point? What's the point in working so hard if nothing will get better? 

College is way better than high school: Can't argue that. Not even a little. The only thing I miss a little is having enough free money to dye my hair every now and then. Other than that, I love it. The freedom that comes with knowing that you are the only person responsible for yourself is amazing. I know that what happens to me (and my husband) will be a direct result of my actions... That's great! So, take that, proverbial "they!" High school wasn't the best time of my life! (Catholic time: "Thanks be to God!")

You'll make your best friend for life: Well, I made that friend in high school, his name's Ty, but usually I call him "husband" or some sickeningly sweet pet name like "behbeh cakes," "honey bear," or occasionally some choice expletives, depending on the mood! Don't get me wrong. I made other best friends, but they're an ocean (or a Facebook message) away.

Upon examination of the ups and downs, college has been a pretty even mix. You should be impressed that I was able to objectively say that, because this is how I'm feeling about college right now:

This has been one of those weeks that's driven me to sincerely consider having a mental breakdown. I probably would if it weren't for the fact that I have absolutely no time for one! Let's hope that after this week, my cortisol levels will drop, I'll have a more positive outlook, have more time to dedicate to my mental health, and.... have a college degree! 

And after that... Well, I'll be looking forward to even more "best years of my life."

An Easter to Remember

Hey this is Ty, the other half of the Stelting clan on this blog (the not so pretty half). This previous week I was lucky enough to be Baptized and Confirmed into the Catholic Church. My experiences with the Catholic Church before this were full of “mysteries” and questioning the sanity of this institution. I decided that, to rationalize this, I needed to join a process that would allow me to understand this chanting and crazy body and blood thing they call communion. I joined RCIA and now I completely understand why we do the things we do and I have no clue why I didn’t do this sooner!

First off, I joined the RCIA process to become a catholic and get our marriage blessed. I had no real drive to Catholicism because it seemed like the same thing to me as compared to other churches. Once they started showing me the meaning behind the rituals, sacraments, and prayers, I began to understand that Catholicism is not just a religion. It’s a way of life. The meaningfulness, love, and hope that I have gained through Christ and his Church has manifested itself through the Catholic faith and ways of teaching. I used to think that Catholics were all these tests and memorizations just to get to stand up and get bread. However, it is not, we now get to understand the true meaning behind the Eucharist (communion) and the meaning behind the Creed. It changed my life like no other organization has.

Now that I have that all out in the open, I really wanted to talk about Holy Week. Holy Week is the last week of lent that is truly sacred and an emotional time for us. There are three ceremonies that I was able to go to but there is importance in every day. I will talk about each and every one that I went to and how it was able to help me feel closer to Jesus and what he went through and the meaning that it had for me.

Palm Sunday

On Palm Sunday, you walk into the Church and grab a single palm leaf and go sit down. I always wondered why until I was explained to that it was the same thing that was held up by the people of Jerusalem as Jesus entered. So to celebrate this we physically went outside the sanctuary, prayed to Jesus and held up our palms. Then we walked back to our seats within Jerusalem and reenacted the scenes of how we, the people, who just welcomed Jesus, turned on Him and crucified Him. This was powerful for me because it rooted in me that when we sin, we turn our back on Him. He then died to remind us that no matter what we do, He will always care for us and sacrifice for our love.

Good Friday

Then I went to no other mass because I am lazy and a college student in 21 hours. I wanted to go to Holy Thursday to see the washing of the feet and how they undress the altar. Instead I attended Good Friday mass. We went to Seven Dolors, which I think is a weird name because it is a Spanish/English mix meaning seven pains. It now makes sense because the mass Kelsie and I went to was done in Spanish and English.

Seven Dolors Church

The church is beautiful and the Spanish singer Jorge was absolutely breathtaking. We once again reenacted the moments that led up to the crucifixion and all the way to His death. We read scriptures and sang very emotional song. Women who sat three pews ahead of us were actually crying.

This is the night we venerate the cross which looks like this: 

One-by-one we walked up there and touched, bowed, and even kissed the cross to show the overall importance that Jesus’ sacrifice was. It was truly the pinnacle of the whole service. At our usual church that we go to, they actually dropped huge nails into a bucket. This is just to remind us how real this was and how the death of Christ, God’s only begotten son, was purely for us.

Easter Vigil

The importance of Easter vigil is a celebration of the entrants into the church. I was one of those people who had never been baptized so I joined the portion of the group that had to be bathed naked…okay we just had water poured over our head. Fully clothed (thank God for everyone else who would have had to see me). This was meaningful because I had been sinning for many years and the priest would have had to sit through a one hour confession. I will still try and confess any that lead up to it but this literally washed some weight off my shoulders haha.

The next part was the part that made me worry the most because for a little while, I thought we were going to have oil poured on our head…

Needs some face wash...

That is a zit factory waiting to happen…

Like this guy but only with good smelling oil. Thankfully they didn’t they just added a little to the top of our head and the front of the forehead. They call it chrism oil because it is blessed by our bishop.

But enough about me; this is the mass where we get our holy water for the year and light the candle that will remain lit for over the whole year. All the confirmed and baptized had their first communion and finally got to taste that wonderful sacrament.

Conclusion

It all really meant a lot to me; if it wasn’t for all the help from Kelsie, Steven, and the entire RCIA team, I would not have had a life changing experience. I always wanted to become a more thoughtful, kind, and loving person. I could have done it before but now, I have a road map and a guide that I feel like I can now understand more and interpret the word the way God wanted ME to do.

Here are some of the people that really helped me through just this night.

Kelsie and I

L-R: Father Don Zimmerman, me, and Steven Miller(my amazing sponsor)  in front of the Altar.

Deacons of the parish, L-R: Larry Erpelding, me, Wayne Talbot, and Buzz Harris


THANKS FOR READING!!! 

Why I Chose to Dress and THINK Modestly.

Going clothes shopping is, and always has been a nightmare for me, but lately it's reached epic proportions of horrible. Why? 1) I'm in college. My money is technically the tax-payer's, and I'm pretty sure they wouldn't appreciate me spending it on clothes. 2) My body is not shaped like other women's bodies. None of our bodies are made the same, therefore, 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14 doesn't match everyone. I AM NOT AN EVEN NUMBER!... and also not even tempered. (Ha, welcome to punland everyone!) 3) I do not feel morally comfortable wearing about 99% of the clothes for sale in stores today. The other 1% of decent clothes aren't cute and usually way too expensive.

A few years ago, I had a talk with some of the younger girls in my family. It was fair-time, and they were not dressed modestly. I used a famous, cliche line, "You're sending out the wrong message." I'd heard this phrase a million times before. These girls were dressed like the majority of college girls dress now: booty shorts, tank tops with ample cleavage showing. Not only were they dressed in a revealing manner, they were putting themselves out there: making eyes at boys, flipping their perfectly groomed hair around, and doing other provocative things. Certainly I didn't like them acting that way, but I was also concerned for their safety. In a small town, fair always brings out the good, the bad, and the ugly in people, especially men. Recently, I started wondering why women dress immodestly. That may seem silly, but I feel like there's a deeper reason than just "to get a boyfriend" or "to get attention."

In the media, there's been an increasing trend towards making yourself happy at all costs. You want to have an abortion? It's your choice. You want to sleep around? It's your choice. You want to marry anyone at anytime? That's your choice. You want to smoke pot? That's your choice. You want to drink 'til you drop? That's fine, just don't drive afterward. There's also a trend towards vanity.

How many "perfect" women stare at you from magazine covers? How many perfectly muscled men flex on posters at the gym? In all honesty, how many famous people are there that don't look like they're ready to go run a marathon while batting their full lashes without even breaking a sweat? In my opinion, a pretty large percentage. So we've created a dilemma for ourselves without knowing it: We can do anything we want, and a person can't have a whole, healthy, successful life without a "pleasing" physical appearance.

In such a vain setting, how are we supposed to receive any validation to remind ourselves that we are on the right track to blissful, consequence free, and "beautiful" life? We need to look to other people. This is especially evident on Facebook, where people constantly post about their lives, many times looking for validation. ("Went for a run today!" "-Insert inspirational quote here-" along with a heavily edited selfie.) But here's an interesting thought:

You can be immodest while dressing modestly, and you can be modest while dressing immodestly.

When I was in high school, I wanted boys to notice me. I cared whether or not a certain boy thought I was cute, and it would destroy me when I found out a boy liked another girl more than me or thought she was more attractive. I cared about what other boys thought of me so much that I developed a crush on a boy just because he was the only guy to tell me that I looked beautiful at prom. If that one compliment made me feel good, can you imagine how I felt when no one would compliment me? I was dressing modestly, but I was immodest with my emotions.

Back to the story about these girls in my family. One of the girls dressed in a very cute, and modest outfit the next day and they went to hang out together with some of our other family. Upon running into an adult in our family, one of the girls mentioned the talk I had with them, and the adult said, "Go upstairs and change into the shortest pair of shorts you have." The adult elaborated to this young girl, saying that she should wear whatever makes her feel confident, and she shouldn't care about what anyone else has to say about it. (There it is again, our culture of "do whatever makes you happy at any cost.") 

But she did care. 

Is it really plausible that women walk around leaving so little to the imagination because they had some mysterious inclination to dress akin to Victoria Secret models? No. Women dress that way because that is how they get attention. Any time we went to the club, the girls who dressed, or acted immodestly always had a dance partner. One of my good friends, who is the nicest girl I've ever met, but always dressed and acted modestly was never asked to dance. In my opinion, the girl most worthy of attention wasn't receiving any, and she was okay with it. The more I look for similar situations, the more I see them.

I chose to dress modestly because I decided to save my body for my husband. My body is a temple, and I decided to treat it as such. I decided to act modestly because my heart is for God, and now it is for God and my husband. I derive my self worth from the fact that I am wonderfully and fearfully made, from the good deeds I do, and from the love in my heart, and not from compliments--or the lack thereof--from other people.

In closing, I'd like to share a quote from my favorite author:

"I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’. And frankly, I’d rather they didn’t give a gust of stinking chihuahua flatulence whether the woman standing next to them has fleshier knees than they do. Let my girls be Hermiones, rather than Pansy Parkinsons.” 

-JK Rowling

The biggest disease affecting twenty-somethings.

"Your twenties are for you!"
"Don't settle down, this time is about discovering yourself, making mistakes, and doing what YOU want!"
"Don't get married! You need to date around!"
"Don't settle with your first boyfriend, date guys, LOTS of guys, so you know what you want!"
"If you ever can't pay for something, Mom and Dad are here to help you. ALWAYS!"
"Don't get a job in college! I want you to 'focus on your studies!'"

If I did a search on advice for college-aged twenty-somethings, I would be besieged with blog posts restating the previous statements. If you're friends with a twenty-something on Facebook you've probably seen posts/pictures/blogs about what the 20's are for. I.e. "46 reasons to be single in college." "23 Reasons not to get engaged before 23" "40 reminders for your College Years." OR the pictures that say, "All my friends are getting married and here I am -insert something "better" here-." OR the posts that complain about someone posting too many pictures of their babies/dogs/husbands etc.

Well, let me tell you, this selfishness is the biggest disease affecting twenty-somethings. It is making our twenty-somethings lazy, self-serving, and immature. People my age will soon be in charge of government, health care, education, and many other important aspects of society, and we need to be constantly working to become strong, mature, and selfless adults that can lead out country to prosperity.

So, here is my list of "Eight things to remember in your twenties."

1) Once you turn 18 your parents owe you nothing.
Your parents have an inherent obligation to support you financially and emotionally until you turn eighteen. That's a given, but once you have moved out and are on your own, you are responsible for yourself. Your parents don't have to pay for your car, your college, or for you to go out with your friends, and they shouldn't have to.

2) Until you're totally independent, your parents get a "say" in your life.
Number one being said, I know how difficult it is to become independent in college. If your parents are still providing for you like you are a child, then they reserve the right to control certain aspects of your life.

3) Your twenties are a time to become fiscally responsible.
Sure, your parents might be paying for your tuition and a little spending money, but what happens when you graduate and you realize you have no savings and debt to top it off? Even if you're lucky enough to land a job right after graduation, you still have to pay for moving expenses, and let me tell you, that's not cheap! So, GET A JOB. Even if it's just a few hours a week it will go a long way toward helping you become self-sufficient.

4) You are responsible for your actions whether you are five, twenty, forty-five, or ninety years old.
Almost all of the articles that are popular encourage twenty-somethings to go crazy whether it's with alcohol, food, or with the opposite sex. When you're standing before God when you die, do you think he's going to say, "Ahhh, that's okay, you were twenty!"? I don't think so. That's not even mentioning the earthly consequences of our actions.

5) The decisions you make now will follow you for the rest of your life.
If you are irresponsible, my guess is you won't be building a good foundation for the rest of your life. If you work hard and smart in your twenties, you'll be setting yourself up for a great future in your thirties, instead of  spending your thirties doing damage control.

6) Promiscuity is never okay.
Let me introduce you to the duct tape theory. Every time you put duct tape on something, a little bit of the adhesive comes off. The more you move your duct tape around the less sticky it becomes, until eventually it won't be able to stick anymore. The same is true with relationships--especially physical relationships. There are serious physical repercussions that come along with sexual activity: namely parenthood and STIs. You have a responsibility to yourself and the person you're dating to be responsible and not create unneeded baggage for your future spouses.

7) College is not intended to be a party.
Partying is talked about just as much or more than classes, and that's sad. If people got just as excited for classes and homework as they did for the parties, our world would be an entirely different place. I'm not saying don't go to parties, but I am saying be smart about it. Your education should always be your first priority.

8) Your representation of yourself matters.
One day, you're going to apply for jobs. Do you think you're going to get a good reference from the professor of a class that you always went to five minutes late, hungover, and in sweatpants? Or if you always talked with a neighbor in class instead of taking notes? Probably not. There's a good chance a possible employer might know a professor you took classes under and call them to check on you whether or not you listed that professor as a reference. Be respectful in class, no matter how uninteresting or unimportant you may find it.


I'm sure plenty of people will disagree with this list. But, I'd like to see in ten years where the people who worked a good job, got good grades, participated in scholarly activities, and acted more responsibly are as opposed to the people reading and sharing these "Your twenties are for -insert immature actions here-."

Keepin' it real with your family

By: Ty Stelting

Today, my wife and I, after a night full of driving with her brother to mis abuelos paternos, (or paternal grandparents) in Weatherford, Oklahoma, we got up and had strawberries and whipped cream on top of waffles. It was a great meal with some VIPs

It may not sound important but we drove 6 hours to come visit two people. Now that sounds crazy but it's important. Visiting family is great and should always be a part of every family's (and person's) life. My family was not a visiting type of family so neither was I. We went and visited maybe once a year at the most. It was always around Christmas and it was one day of presents and presence.

However, this was horrible because we always looked different, had familiarize ourselves with each other and had limited time to do things. Then we immediately left each other for a year again. This all changed once I got married to Kelsie.

Kelsie always reminds me of the importance of seeing family. Her family gets together at least three times a year, if not more. Family members are what keeps us happy and together. It creates opportunities to learn more stories on family, where you come from, and moments of greatness from your childhood. You laugh, fight, makeup, and then laugh again. It is what makes great conversations with your friends and kids. My Mom told me many stories about her brothers and how fun they were.

I loved it at my grandma's because it gives me a chance to live the great pasts and forget the bad ones.

I'm so grateful for all that she did for us this weekend and I hope she knows that we really love her. :)

Reverse Culture Shock

Life is so full of surprises that I should stop being surprised about being surprised. If you would have told me at any point during my first month abroad that I would not just miss Prague, but long to go back, I would have looked at you like you were a slug that someone poured salt on. (I'm guessing that's a look of fascination mingled with shock and horror.) 

Everything was so different in Prague, I mean, they didn't even have Velveeta or Sonic milk shakes. The grocery stores were small and lacked options, the clothes I bought fit weird, Czechs annoyed me with their stand-offish nature, and our campus was so small it was laughable. So why, then, I ask you do I feel more uncomfortable and out of place in a place I've spent years than a place I only stayed at five months? Well isn't that the million-dollar question.

When you leave for study abroad everyone is telling you to take in all the culture you can, embrace it without judgement, meet new people, and learn as much as possible. But after you go, they kind of leave you high and dry, or... The dreaded question.

"How does it feel to be back?"

Well, when most people ask that, they want you to say some variation of, "While I had the time of my life and made the most of my time abroad, I'm incredibly glad to be back and couldn't be happier." And that's true, partially, at least for me.

I am glad to be back (kind of), I did have the time of my life, and I did make the most of my time, but I'm not really happy. Actually, I feel how I felt my first month abroad times about ten. In Prague I took classes with Masters or PHd students; they were the best friends I had made in my whole life. In Prague I ALWAYS saw someone I knew on my way to class. In Prague I NEVER had to eat lunch alone because I almost always got included in one group or another. If I wanted to, I could bring a blanket out to the grass on campus with a bottle of wine and read a book. No one cared, in fact on a nice day there were probably about fifty students doing the same thing. My college professors taught me facts and kept their opinions to themselves. On weekends, there was always a pub to go to, a friend to eat lunch with, and some musician playing music. People didn't have a lot, but people didn't need a lot.

It is nice to be back. I can eat the foods I missed, see my family face to face, and sleep in a bed that doesn't resemble a couch cushion. That's great. There's nothing I love more than the views in Western Kansas right now, I missed them. But there's so much that I miss from my time abroad.

In Europe, or Costa Rica, the "ice bucket challenge" would be an outrage. They are so conservative of resources they don't even leave the showers on while they soap themselves up so they can save water. Water is valuable, and they know it. Now, every other post on my timeline is people pouring fresh ICE water over their heads. Sometimes not even over plants that can use the water, and a lot of the time using WAY more water than is necessary. (I'm looking at you, people who are using full loader buckets.) People are so eager here to waste things or not use them to their fullest potential, and when I confronted someone about wasting water they became belligerent and told me it's okay to waste water because at least people are giving money. Is that what it's come down to? We're okay with wasting our precious resources to get donations, but people get angry about farmers irrigating to produce food? This is just one example.

I won't even elaborate about my trips to Walmart. Talk about overstimulation.

I also never expected for people to care so little about my semester abroad. Sure, people ask, but how do you share the most amazing six months of your life in passing conversation? So many things remind me of my semester abroad, but I know how annoying it is to hear "When I was in Europe...." over and over again, so I try not to bring it up constantly. All I can do is pray for the opportunity for someone to ask and then I'm left disappointed because the other person gets bored or there simply isn't enough time. Sometimes I fear that if I wait too long to talk about things I'll forget them, and I don't want that either.

I miss all of the wonderful friends I made. I miss going to the PUB and attempting to pour my own draft of Pilsner. I can't even explain the longing I'm feeling for a cake from Giraffe Creperie.

While I am so glad I grew up where I did, and I AM proud to be an American, I miss the culture and people I became so fond of. I know this experience has made me look more critically at my own opinions, and I hope that as the days pass, I can somehow stop feeling like a tourist in my own country.