Memories

In "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years," Don often mentions his friend Bob, who writes down all of his memories.  I'm not going to do that, but I think it's important to make memories and to revisit them every once in a while.

My first memory is of my Grandma taking away my pacifier.  My parents didn't have the heart to do it, and I was almost 4, so Grandma had to take matters into her own hands.  She pulled it right out of my mouth and put in on a high shelf in a cabinet so I could see it but not reach it.  I was devastated.  I was furious.  My almost-4-years-old world was shattered.

I remember when Grandma died...she was the only grandparent I ever knew.  That was a whole different kind of devastation and world-shattering.  

I remember my first boyfriend and my first kiss: Rick Tafoya. We were kindergarten lovers.  He kissed me on the cheek in my garage. In front of my dad.

I remember summers in New Hampshire--sneaking over to the private beach with my cousins; duck itch; hiding behind a tree with my cousin Kristi while my dad got a talking-to from a cop for shooting off 4th of July fireworks; borrowing Kristi's rollerblades (at least 4 sizes too small) and subsequently eating gravel, coming back to the house and yelling "it smarts!" as my mom applied hydrogen peroxide to my wounds because I had heard that phrase somewhere and thought it's what all the cool kids were saying when they were in pain.

I remember staple wars with my elementary school friends every time our teacher would turn around. 

I remember my parents telling me we were moving to TEXAS instead of New Hampshire...that was a bad day.  Turned out ok though =)

I remember skipping the Rangers game at our July 4th family reunion one year so we could keep playing spoons and eating Lorna's famous chocolate chip cookies.  We made our own fireworks show by jumping up from our seats and yelling "BLUE!" "RED!" "SPARKLES!" etc.

I remember my first all-nighter in high school with my best friend, Kim, making [really dumb] shirts that said "sorry if our hotness burns u." And I think the sleeves had dolphins on them.

I remember JAJ days.

I remember sitting on my floor praying REALLY hard for God to "send me a sign" about whether I should go to CSU or Mizzou.  I remember Mom walking in at exactly that moment holding a stuffed CSU ram.  

I remember having yell practice with 80 Aggies on the roof of the Galeries Lafayette in Paris.

Those are just a few of so many moments that were made memorable for one reason or another.  Mostly because of the people involved.  So a big thanks to all of you crazy/fun/awesome/inspirational/loving people who have made memories with me through the years.  

Courting a better story

I have entirely too many thoughts swirling around in my head.  It's a real problem. As in, I'm starting to think that I may suffer from ADHD. But I digress.  The point is that I decided to start a blog after years of failed attempts at consistent journaling.  My journals (plural not because some are full, but because I get bored with what they look like and begin the search for "the perfect journal" all over again) typically look something like this:

January 1, 200_: I think it would help me not go crazy if I journal....

Following entries:January 2; January 3: January 25; March 16

January 1, 200_: OK so last year's effort didn't really work. This year I'm really going to keep up with my journal.

Following entries: January 2; January 15; May 3

January 1, 200_: I WILL keep up with my journal this year.

Following entries: none.

I genuinely enjoy writing, but journaling is time consuming and I can't write nearly as fast as I can think.  Suddenly my eloquent and well thought-out entries become bulleted lists of events and feelings, penned more out of a feeling of obligation than anything. I can't type as fast as I think either, but I can type a heck of a lot faster than I can write. Enter the blog!

I've known what I'd name my blog ever since I finished reading this book.  Unfortunately, several other people were also inspired by that book and had the same great idea.  But, guess what?  I don't care.  

Now, about the book.  First I'll say that I did a significant amount of driving over a few days at the end of July.  I love driving because it affords me the unique opportunity to be completely alone so I can do embarrassing things like think out loud and sing at the top of my lungs.  My sweet sweet friend, Lori, had suggested that I read a book by Don Miller--whose work I already admired--called "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years."  Knowing that I had hours upon hours of driving ahead of me, I decided to buy it as an audiobook (when was the last time YOU listened to a book on tape?!).  Let me tell you, I was enraptured! I won't tell you much about it because you really should pick up a copy and read it yourself, but essentially it is about Don's realization that his life was (in his opinion) boring, and the actions he took to make it more memorable--to make it a better story.  It was pretty convicting, to say the least.  And that conviction was not a new feeling...

This is the sort-of depressing part.  

I did not know Lauren Lewis or Lauren Baker, but I can say without hesitation that they have both changed my life.  I know people say that, but I'm serious.  Both were students at Texas A&M; both were friends with many of my friends; both were taken from this earth way too soon.  

The life-changing part is the reaction that followed both of their deaths: an immense outpouring of love and support from the Aggie family for their friends and family.  Both of these girls had touched so many lives and (at least, according to Facebook posts and comments in the newspapers, etc) had been the kind of women that made others want to be better people. 

Hearing and reading stories about these phenomenal women made me take a hard look at how I was living my life.  What kind of an example am I setting for those around me by the life that I'm living and the actions I'm taking?  If I die tomorrow, what will people say about me? If I die tomorrow, what will I say about me?

If I die tomorrow, what will God say about me?

I'm not trying to sound morose or self-righteous or anything like that...I just know that there are people in my life who inspire me with their words and actions.  They are people who take risks and give selflessly and really LIVE. So of course I love to think I could live my life that way and possibly inspire someone else to do the same.  But I don't think I've been that person yet.  I've let so many moments and opportunities pass me by; I've done things I'm not proud of; I've made decisions that have hurt the people I love.  But I realize I'm only human and I know I'll continue to make mistakes, no matter how pure my intentions.

So that brings me to today.  Today I start simplifying.  Today I get back to what's important and try to make the most of my short life.  Because it IS short and we only get one shot at it.

Ultimately God is the author of my story, but I'm going to try my hardest to make whatever parts I get to write exciting, memorable, and maybe even inspirational.  It will have adventure, trials, drama, love, heartache, and whatever else God wants in it.  But most importantly, it will be mine, and it will be better than the first twenty-something chapters have been.