Things I'm Thankful For...Part 4: Old Friends

So I dropped the ball on posting everyday, but only because I was being inspired. I've decided to post twice today to keep up the 5 things I'm thankful for.

Last night, I was reading for class at my favorite Starbucks in Arlington. The Starbucks I usually go to is smaller than most, and is easily crowded and noisy. Last night it was especially so, being the day before Thanksgiving. All around me were groups of college girls, reuniting to share stories and catch up. The girls behind me were telling long stories about living in Boston and new boyfriends. Another group took up 2 tables and went around several times sharing. After leaving Starbucks, I went to an old friends house and reunited with the group I spent all of last winter with. Although we hadn't seen each other in what seemed like an eternity, it didn't take long before inside jokes started flowing. Laughter filled the room. It was just like old times.
I am thankful for old friends (and I include family in this category). There's something charming about being around the people who shared in the experiences that shaped who you are. There's something comforting about being around the people that have comforted you through breakups with boyfriends, losing family members, fights with friends and everything in between. There's something special about laughing about things that happened years ago that never seem to lose their humor. Old friends know you to the core. They know what makes you tick, how to rile you up, and how to cheer you up.They are always there for you. And that is what means the most.

Things I'm Thankful For...Part 3: Laughter

Laugh. Giggle. Chuckle. Titter. Snicker. I can barely type these words without cracking a grin. Laughter is something that can transform a dreary day into a glorious one. A funny story. A joke from a friend that the two of you are the only ones that understand. A smile from a stranger.

Laughter is something not to be taken for granted. Laughter is a joy of life I am thankful for.

It's hard for me to think of a moment I treasure where laughter was not present. Friends laugh at goofy things each of us mistakenly said. Family laughs at misunderstandings and catestrophic moments. Things you have to have been present at to find humerous. It provides unity. It bonds us together.

It seems that no matter what the situation, laughter seems to make it that much sweeter, and that much more refreshing. Laughter is like adding the perfect amount of splenda to a peach tea on a hot summer day.

Maybe I just have funny friends. Maybe we've discovered one of the great treasures of life.

"Among those whom I like or admire, I can find no common denominator, but among those I love I can: all of them make me laugh." -W.H. Auden

Things I'm Thankful For... Part 2: Surprising Direction

As I was thinking about what to write about today, I honestly felt a little lost. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for so many things. I've been blessed beyond anything I could have ever imagined, but I was somehow stumped. I prayed. I thought. I soul searched. I came up with two thoughts: I'm grateful for direction in my life, but I'm also grateful for the surprises of life that often lead to that direction. So since they go hand-in-hand in my life, they are going hand-in-hand in one entry.

Direction. Something sought by most. It seems that everyone wants to know not only where they're going, but how they're supposed to get there. Be it in careers, relationships, or any other aspect of life. I feel lost if I don't have a destination in mind.

But here's the tricky part: the more I seek a destination, the more lost I feel. The harder I search for, think about, try to know and outright demand a destination, the more I realize I have no idea where I'm going. The more the frustration sets in. For without a destination, I ask myself, how the heck am I supposed to know how to live my life?

Just as I start to give up and feel as if I must wander aimlessly through life, something happens. Something unexpected. Out of the blue. An unforseen bend in the road apears on the horizon, gently nudging me back on the path, of which I can only see what seems to be 2 steps in front of me.

Without fail, this surprise makes me smile. In a way I could have never imagined. And that's what's so wonderful about it.

Psalm 119:105 says "Your word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path." A wise friend once pointed out to me that a lamp unto your feet would only show you what was a couple of steps in front of you. Not the destination. Not the whole path. But just what was up next.

I reflect upon these facts that have been proven true time and time again in my life. Why does it always work that the second I give up on trying to figure it out on my own, that I finally realize I won't know, do I gain just enough clarity to step where I ought to be? I think it's God, knowing that if I knew all that He knew, I'd think I could do it on my own. That I would be arrogant enough to think I could get there without His guidance, without His help. I think the lack of knowing is Him watching out for me, knowing what is best, and taking care of me in ways only He could know how to. It strengthens my faith. It renews my longing for Him. My need for Him. My desperation for Him.

So I'm grateful not only for the direction, but the surprising ways He provides it.

"For some people, God will grant the insight to see that you have your sights set on the wrong thing, that the point of life is not really the goal or destination but the journey." -Kyle Lake, Understanding God's Will

Things I'm Thankful For...Part 1

In honor of Thanksgiving, and national blogging month that I just found out about (you're supposed to post each day in it's honor, who knew?) I've decided to post something I'm thankful for every day between now and Thanksgiving. Some will be funny and some will be serious. Thanksgiving always makes me reflective.



I am thankful for coffee. I know you're thinking "that's so trivial" or that I shouldn't be thankful for something I'm hopelessly addicted to that generally keeps me from sleep. But keep reading.

Coffee keeps me from being grumpy. It makes me peppy in the mornings. I couldn't do that on my own, and if you've never seen me after being stuck in Dallas gridlock on the way to school, believe me, it's a good thing.


But coffee is so much more than that. I think good things happen over coffee, while spending a warm summer night listening to the peaceful, muted sounds of crickets chirping in the background, giggling while talking about what life means to you now, and what it could mean to you in the weeks, months, and years to come.


Before I went to college, my mom and I spent many balmy summer evenings on the porch of the Starbucks I always went to in Arlington, sipping on grande java chip frappaccino lights double blended. She would listen to me talk in circles and calmly reassure me. I constantly rambled about how excited I was to move off and see what the future held, while I was terrified that nothing would ever be as good as life in Arlington had been. One night, we talked about how Starbucks had brought back the art of conversation. When you go to get coffee, there is nothing else to do but talk. About anything. About everything. About hopes, dreams and fears. About books. About life. With all of the luxuries we enjoy, simple conversation is something is often lost in a text message or while listening to an ipod.


So I am grateful for coffee, the relationships I have built over it, and the person I am becoming because of what can happen over a simple caffeinated beverage.

The Beginning of the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I woke up to the whistling wind outside my window this morning. My dad had told me that the crispness of fall that I crave so much was to return today, after the unseasonably warm weather we have had for the past weeks. As I got ready to go to class, I thought "if it feels like Christmas, I'll listen to Christmas pandora." That made me grin. As I left to go to class, I was whipped by the wind and a shiver crept up my spine. When I got in my car, I thought, "if it feels like Christmas, the radio station should have started playing Christmas music." I pushed preset 3 twice... and Sleighride was on. It was the best discovery of Christmas music ever.

Live….
More than your neighbors.
Unleash yourself upon the world and go places.
Go now.
Giggle, no, laugh.
No…stay out past dark,
And bark at the moon like the wild dog that you are.
Understand that this is not a dress rehearsal,
This is it…your life.
Face your fears and live your dreams.
Take it all in.
Yes, every chance you get…
Come close.
And by all means, whatever you do…
Get it on film.
~John Blais, ALS patient

This has been an emotional week for me.

On Wednesday, my client at practicum did not show up (true story, she has been on vaca at Disney World for 3 weeks. Lucky girl.). Since she was absent, I was able to observe another grad student's therapy. Her client was a 45 year old woman with severe cognitive deficits. As sweet as the client is, it broke my heart to watch. She has been alive for 45 years, but she has never been blessed with the opportunity to really live. Her situation brought tears to my eyes. How tragic for her. Almost more so, how tragic for her parents, who never got to see their daughter grow in to something amazing, to accomplish her wildest dreams. To make mistakes, but to learn great lessons to share with others around her. To live.

Life. A blessing I'm determined to not take for granted.

Unending Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune--without the words, And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard; And sore must be the storm That could abash the little bird That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land, And on the strangest sea; Yet, never, in extremity, It asked a crumb of me.

What is hope? This is a question I've been asking myself a lot lately. I can't help but to reflect. To turn to experiences of myself and others.

In junior high, my grandfather was diagnosed with liver cancer. The doctors told us that it was the slowest growing form of cancer, but that they world know nothing more until they went in and did exploratory surgery. A random fact about the liver: If any portion of it is removed, it grows back as if nothing was wrong. So my family entered the surgery positively, knowing Grandpa would be OK. As the doctors went in, the tumors were far more numerous than they expected, and were located near to vital arteries. Removing the tumors was no longer an option. Chemo was not an option, as Grandpa was in his 70's. I remember hearing the news and my mom, grandma and I drove back to the hospital after eating Jason's Deli for lunch. My grandma burst into tears and hugged my dad harder than I've ever seen someone hug before. My chin quivered as tears streamed down my cheeks, and my mom squeezed my hand. The doctors said the cancer was unpredictable. They gave him anywhere from 3 months to 3 years to live. Did this stop Grandpa? Absolutely not. He had hope that if he didn't let the cancer defeat him, he could outlive the diagnosis. He drove to Cleburne, Texas, Commerce, Texas, Louisville, Kentucky and everywhere in between to see ALL of my volleyball games. My grandparents became the mascots of my cousin's soccer teams, as they never missed a game. Whether they wiped drops of sweat off of their foreheads during sweltering summer heat, or were chilled to the bone during blistery winter games, they never missed a game. 5 years after the initial diagnosis, my grandfather passed away. He had hope that he could make the most of his life he had left. Hope carried him through.

During this time, I took an honors English class in 7th grade. For our biggest project, we had to choose a word and research it. It's definition. It's origin. We, then, had to search for an article that described the word to us and a poem that symbolized the word's meaning. My word: Hope. The Emily Dickinson poem at the top was the poem that I chose. I still love the image of the bird. It continues to inspire me.

I continually come back to Psalm 51 in my daily quiet times. This psalm was written after David committed adultery with Bathsheba. He confesses to God, realizing that he cannot change his ways. That he has no power over sin in his life. But God does. This has been a lesson I've been learning lately. My hope to overcome sin is in God. I cannot do it on my own. But through God transforming my heart, changing me from the inside out, I can. He can.

What is hope? Hope is what helps us to press on. To know times will get better even when they are hard. To know that we were made for something higher. For something more. Hope is what pushes us through.

October was now

In high school, I was a full-fledged band nerd. Not only was I a member of the band, I was 110% into it. Section leader. First person at all of the band socials in my themed costume. I'll admit it, I even had my dad bring me to school an hour early in junior high so I could "practice" in the band hall, which actually meant eating pixie sticks wtih friends and figuring out who was making out in the practice room next to ours. This love for band grew in high school, and my love of band quickly extended to marching contests. I loved the first crispness of fall, and the fact that you finally didn't sweat in the wool uniforms. The rush you felt after you marched a perfect show. Spending all day with your best friends. Our band was competetive, and at the beginning of each competition season, someone would always write on the chalk board "October is NOW!" This was meant to scare all of us into practicing more and harder. For me, it simply brought feelings of bliss.

My love of October only continued throughout my years at Baylor. I adored football season, even though my team was terrible, and loved homecoming and the bustle that fall always brought. Fall break and weekends of relaxation amongst the busyness.

This October, as I adjusted to life as a quasi-adult slash grad student, I knew October would be different. This October brought midterms. I barely remember the month as I was cracked out on 4 cups of coffee, an energy beverage of some kind, and 3-6 hours of sleep each night as I crammed as much knowledge on Neurogenic Communication Disorders or Assessment and Intervention of Preschool and School-aged Language disorders into my head. I didn't feel like myself. It didn't feel like October. It has even brought about a feeling of semi-disgust towards coffee.

To try to counter this different October here in Plano, my roommate and I made several trecks to Waco. We had been reluctant to do this, knowing that Waco would be different not walking up the steps of 1701 S. 10th Street. We knew, however, that we needed to bite the bullet and go back sometime.

It's strange how leaving a place changes your view on it. I'll be the first to admit that, while in Waco, I complained about how boring it was. I thought it was slow, and that there was nothing to do (which there isn't, I still stick by that). Since I've been gone, however, I've grown to appreciate the pace of life in Waco. Life moves slower down there. People aren't in a hurry and aren't so stressed and fast paced. When you go to George's on Saturday night, you know it will take an hour and a half to get seated and eat, but no one gets worked up about that. You savor that time, soaking up time with the company you're eating with, watch parts of the Big-12 games on the TV's around you, and smile at the waitress as she brings you your food later. People appreciate each other's company because there is not as much to do.

It helps me to realize what life is about. People. Investing in them. Learning from each other. Laughing with them. Waco does that right. I appreciate that.

Maybe it wasn't October itself that I've always loved. Maybe it was treasured time with friends. Maybe it was simplicity. Maybe it's something that will return.