My Great-Grandfather

 He was my Mom's Grandfather and we called him Poo.
My earliest memories of going to visit Nan and Poo inevitably began at my own house. Every time we went to go visit Nan and Poo, we dressed up. Like we were going to church. And I hated it because it meant I had to wear tights. But beyond the tights, these visits meant all of my siblings and myself and my parents piled up in the car and made the 200 mile drive from Laurel to Richmond. Sometimes we would stop along the way and pick up Kentucky fried chicken for lunch and bring it to the house. Other times, we would bring lunch meat, bread and side dishes. Sometimes there would be other people visiting, like Aunt Emma, Aunt Sister, or even the neighbors Christine and Clifford. Each visit was different and each one was, in its own way, special. When Nan died in 1997, we still continued to make the visits. And Poo loved it.
Poo was a very special man. He was very involved in his church and the Young at Heart Club. The Young at Heart club would do activities on a regular basis and even take trip. Everyone at his church knew him as "Joe", or Papa Joe. His smile could light up a room and his distinct southern (not redneck southern) accent could be easily distinguished from far away. And he loved us kids. Oh, did he love us. My mother and her mother are only children and so the five of us were his only great-grandchildren. He had an abundance of neices, nephews, great-neices, and great-nephews, but there was a special place in his heart for us. One specific memory I have is at Christmas time. He had a set of mechanical trains that he would set up at Christmas time. These trains would circle around a small town where there were houses, and animal figurines and several other toys. The set-up was always the same, the trains always went in the same direction, they always made the same sounds, but we loved him and appreciated this effort he made for us. Yes, after several years we knew what to expect, but our parents instructed us to make an effort to appreciate the trains, even if it meant staring at them watching them go around and around for the upteenth time. Looking, back, I'm so glad they instructed us to do that - because those trains are something I will never forget.
At their house in Richmond, we were expected to be on our best behavior. This meant no jumping off furniture, or rough housing. We were to be polite and respectful and make sure we gave everyone a hug. Their house didn't have any kids toys and we didn't bring any from home so we had to interact with the adults. If we went outside to play, we had to use our imaginations and it meant all of us kids had to get along with each other. In the fall, my brothers would bring their football and play in the back yard. My sisters and I would be playing on the round cement blocks placed in various locations in the yard (I'm still not sure what their purpose was...)
Their house was a one story, two bedroom house and there wasn't much for kids to do. Nowadays, you'd probably see kids sitting on the couch absorbed in their smart phone or tablet. But not us. When I say we weren't allowed to, I mean it in a very positive way. Had we been allowed to be self absorbed, we would have missed out on the incredible opportunity to bring joy into people's lives.
Poo was an incredible man. He had a great sense of humor, a hearty chuckle and a big, warm hug. He was self sufficient and he took care of himself. One day, my mom got a call saying that he had experienced weird heart symptoms and the doctor diagnosed him with 4 blocked arteries. The only alternative was surgery. So my mom and I hopped in the car and drove down to Richmond to the hospital. He had no idea we were coming. When we walked into the hospital room, his eyes lit up and he smiled a big smile. He was even talking with someone, a friend who had come to visit, and he stopped the conversation. I think his heart was so full at that point. We visited for a little while and then went to pick up my Grandmother from the airport. We went back to the hospital the next day to see him into surgery. He was lying on the gurney, all prepped. The pastor from the church was there - he was big man with an even bigger opinion and I remember think that I knew he was doing a good thing, but I just wanted him to go away. As every one said their good-byes and their "we'll see you soon, Joe", the doctors were beginning to take him into surgery. I hadn't had a chance to speak to him yet. He said "Where's Catherine?" and I went up to his side. He held my hand, squeezed it tight and smiled. I can't remember if I said anything beyond "I love you" - all I can remember is his smile. They wheeled him away and we began the long wait in the waiting room. A few hours later, we got the news that he had made it through surgery. We were able to see him in the ICU. He was intubated and unconscious from the medications, but they told us to speak to him anyway. I went up to him and told him I loved him and that I would see him soon. My mom and I got in the car and made the drive back home.
He was moved to a nursing home where they would care for him during the post-op. In the nursing home, he contracted pneumonia. And on March 18, 2004, he passed away.
Every now and then, as I go over old birthday cards, I'll come across one from him, or even one from "Nan and Poo". I look at his handwriting and it instantly brings back memories of Christmases with the trains, playing in the yard outside, KFC chicken (when my mom would make us take the skin off, the best part!), the big old tv in the living room that we never got to watch, the green furniture on the back porch, the pictures of his daughter, grandaughter and great grandkids that were all over the house... He was a good neighbor, a good father, grandfather and great-grandfather. As the 10th anniversary of his death passes, I am reminded of his character, his love of life, his kindness and generosity, and his unwavering devotion to his family. Tights and all, those trips were worth it. Not only did they teach us how to interact with people, but they taught us to cherish every moment we have with our loved ones. And that is something I will never forget.

A different kind of anniversary

We have several anniversaries - not that we keep or formally recognize them all.

The one coming up is indeed special to me. It's a date that will forever be etched in my memory. It's the date I met Josh.

March 2, 2012

A friend of mine from work and I had become friends and over the course of getting to know one another, we started to become closer. She had four boys and was going through a difficult time. I felt for her and wanted to get to know her better. We would talk at work and occasional texts. In February she had invited me to go snowboarding with her boys and a friend form church. She mentioned his name but it didn't stick with me. Then on March 2 (it was a Friday), I got a frantic call from her. Her oldest had hurt his knee, couldn't walk and she was in the process of rounding her other energy-filled boys to drive everyone to Children's Hospital in DC. She asked if I'd be willing to come watch them. She said she had also called her friend Josh and he was on his way - would I please coordinate with him and she gave me his number. Now, with this being a Friday (cold and rainy, I might add) the very last thing I wanted to do was hop in the car and drive into DC of all places and spend my precious afternoon/evening for goodness knows how long in the ER. I'll add that I worked full time and was in school Monday through Thursday evenings so an afternoon/evening off was a coveted enjoyment. But, I thought to myself, what would Jesus do and I told her I would be there and that I would coordinate with Josh. So I got off the phone with her and texted the number she had given me. I received a call from that number and it was Josh. The number was his work phone and he was not able to text. We chatted for a bit, laughed a little and planned to just meet at the hospital. I remember thinking how he has a very nice sense of humor.

I got in my car and drove to the ER. When I parked, I started walking toward the elevator and stairs. As I was about to cross the street, a Toyota Truck came zooming around the corner and didn't do the "nice" thing and let me cross. I had a momentary urge to give the driver a dirty look, but thought against it when I saw they were wearing a military uniform (and because, let's face it, dirty looks will come back to bite us in the butt).

I got up to the front desk and got a visitor's badge and looked around to see if my friend had arrived yet. I saw her a short time later with her boys and they checked in. Then guess who comes walking up as well - that's right! the dude from the truck in the parking lot. I was SO thankful that I had not given him a dirty look - that would have made for some very awkward conversations. We went down to the ER and found some seats. The boys took to playing with the toys that were around and I pulled out my Physics Homework. Josh had settled himself in the seats and dozed in and out. We talked for a bit about various things - Physics, martial arts, his work, my work. I remember being mesmerized by his incredible blue eyes (the uniform looked awesome on him too - I have a thing for guys in uniform). All in all we were there for about 2 hours or so. Thankfully, nothing was broken for my friend's son and we all went to part our separate ways. I can't remember if Josh and I had any parting words, but I didn't expect to see him again.

A couple weeks later, I got a text from a number and it said "this is Josh from the hospital, I was wondering if you had a facebook". I replied that, yes, I did and he looked me up and friend requested me. We texted back and forth for a bit and finally went on our first date... I'll save that story for another post. :)

"It's Christmas once again in Honolulu..."

One of biggest complaints lately is that "it just doesn't feel like Christmas". Why? Because we are in Hawai'i...and it is 80-some degrees out every day. Having lived in MD my entire life, I'm used to temperatures much more mild, if not freezing. That cold, to me, signals the coming of the holidays - a time to cuddle in front of the fire in comfy sweatpants, hugging a steaming mug of hot chocolate or apple cider. This time means the smell of a pine tree and blinking lights wrapped around and around the circular bundle of needles and smells. It means turning on the Christmas music and sitting Indian style on the floor, unrolling roll after roll of brightly colored paper, only to wrap it around the gifts thoughtfully purchased. It is a time to reflect on the past year - the good, the bad, the accomplishments, the setbacks, the lessons learned, the memories made.

So why has this year felt different? All because of the weather - and that's pretty sad.

Being in Hawai'i, the radio stations play their own unique set of Hawaiian Christmas carols if you will. One such carol goes something like this: "It's Christmas once again in Honolulu, there is not a snowflake to be found. No sleigh rides, no snowmen like you see on the Christmas Cards, but we've got a lot of Christmas in our hearts". I was listening to the song for the first time and smiling to myself at how ironic it was that I had just been contemplating the same things. And then one particular line struck me. I can't remember it exactly but I'll do my best to paraphrase: "Some folks say it doesn't feel like Christmas, you can't look outside and see some snow...I don't recall that it was snowing in Bethlehem 2000 years ago."

Then it hit me. For as much as I say "Christmas is about Christ yada yada yada", I realized I had made Christmas about what it felt like, not what is truly represented. If you think about it, Most of the Christmas items we think of with relation to Christmas, don't make an appearance in the Biblical Christmas story at all. The trees, the snowmen, the reindeer - they all have root in something other than the story of the Baby Jesus. Now, that's not to say that I"m going to boycott all things not in the Bible, but it does mean I've had a shift in perspective. Christmas, as it is today, (aside from being about Jesus) is what you make it to be. Honestly, it makes me sad to see the world take such a negative view with regards to the Christmas Holiday in general. What has it become? It's become a commercialized holiday that puts more focus on this deal and that deal that ONLY happen once a year. Shopping malls are packed with people trying to spend money they may or may not have to make sure the tree is fully stocked underneath. And goodness forbid that you don't get what you want or all tantrums will break loose.

Ok, I've gone on a tangent. Back to my original point. Christmas isn't about the tree, the gifts, the decoration, the shopping. It is a representation of the Gift that God gave us in His Sone, Jesus Christ. It is also a celebration of his Advent (coming). The Advent of the Old Testement and the Advent of his second coming.

Strong when I am weak

I love my husband. He is the man I prayed for, longed for, hoped for, for almost two years. (I know, it doesn't seem like a very long time, but for me, it felt like eternity).

We had kind of a whirlwind relationship beginning. We met in March on 2012 at Children's Hospital (neither of us were injured) and we started hanging out and then dating about two months later at the end of April. By December we were engaged and then married in a small ceremony in January for legal and military purposes. Our main ceremony was this past April, almost one year to the day that he asked me out.

Over the past year, we have continued to get to know each other, to recognize strengths and weaknesses, what makes each other tic, and most importantly, each other's love languages. I was telling my best friend the other day that she is lucky in her husband's love language - his being quality time. If Josh's love language were quality time, it would be easy! But God knows me well - and he gave me a husband whose love language requires me to think outside the box, become unselfish and also combat one of my greatest weaknesses - a tendency to laziness. Now, when I say laziness it doesn't denote that I'm not a hard worker. If I have a goal, I put forth my best effort to ensure the goal is met and to the best of my ability. No, I'm talking about laziness in the little things - such as leaving a trail of clothes on the floor because I'm too lazy to put it in the hamper. Or leaving a trail of water bottles because emptying them and taking them downstairs isn't the first thought on my mind. Now, eventually these messes will get cleaned up, but they sit there for a while before they get on my nerves and I take care of them. Josh, being in the military, is used to a relatively neat and clean environment. His love language is also Acts of Service. Acts of Service being home-made dinners (no problem there!), the room being picked up and neat, the house being picked up and neat etc. Now, I'm not by any means saying that picking up and cleaning is "my job" or my duty alone. We both share the responsibility of keeping our house clean. We have it worked out well for the kitchen. I'll make the meal and we'll both clean up, or he'll clean up and tell me to go sit on the couch and put my feet up. :) But in keeping the house clean, or initiating the laundry are all acts of service to him that make him feel loved and appreciated. Coming home to a clean house and a warm home cooked meals speaks more  "I love you"s than a handwritten note or a lengthy email stating how much I love him.

More recently, I feel as if I have been lacking in the Acts of Service Department. It has been difficult the past few months as the early stages of pregnancy have hit me kind of hard. Battling low iron and constant tiredness have made it hard to complete anything except the necessities: dinner, school work etc.
So on Friday, I decided it was going to be Love Josh Day. As in, clean the room, straighten up the bed, pick up the clothes, start the laundry etc. I had this whole grand list of ideas of things I could do in the hours before he got home. Even though I wanted to take a nap, I chose to fight through and make my husband feel loved. So, I started out by dumping the hamper of sheets and towels that had been sitting on our floor for a week and folded and put them away. Check #1. Then, I dumped out the hamper of my clothes that had also been sitting on my floor for a week and folded them. Check #1.5 The other .5 check would have been to put them away which I forgot to do because I went downstairs to start dinner. I also made the bed and picked up the clothes and finally discovered that we did indeed own a carpet under all that mess.... (I kid, it wasn't really that bad). So I started diner which consisted of making homemade pizza. When Josh got home, I was in the process of rolling the dough and putting the fixings on it. I had also made a homemade pizza sauce too. Josh went upstairs to change and I felt so proud of myself and hoped he would notice the clean room, the newfound carpet and come down with sparkles in his eyes. I quickly forgot about these hopes as I put dinner in the oven. As we were sitting at the table waiting for the pizza to cook,  I asked him "Did you see the room?" with hopeful expectation in my voice.

"Oh, you mean all the clothes on the bed? Yep, I saw them alright."

Drat.

I had forgotten to go back upstairs and put away the folded laundry. But he was just messing with me and knew that I had put in effort to clean the room. It may not have worked out as well as I wanted, but the effort and meaning were still there.

That's one of the many reason why I love him. Because when I am weak he is strong and vice versa. During the past few months, he has been on of my biggest fans and supporters as I continue to pursue my BS as well as grow a baby. He will tuck me into bed for a desperately needed nap on the weekend and then spend several hours cleaning or doing yard work. He comes home every night with a smile on his face and a "thank you" for dinner (which he knows Word of Affirmation is my love language).

He is a wonderful man, with a big heart and I'm so thankful he is mine to keep. When they say, Love isn't just a feeling, they are right. Love is a choice, it is a commitment, and it takes work. But done in the right way and with the right mindset and with the help of God, you can make Love last a lifetime. That is what I intend to do, till death do us part.

This time, I'm not sure what to say

Recently I have found myself in the midst of an academic conundrum. I took a test last Tuesday and when the grades were posted on Monday, I went to go check how I did. I was slightly concerned when I saw a "0" where a grade should have been. I was even more concerned what the stats for the exam were sent out and it reported that the lowest grade was indeed a zero. I have gotten my fair share of bad grades in my academic career, but never, never, have I gotten a zero. Thoroughly flummoxed, I went up to the teacher during break and asked why i had a zero. Her response shocked me. Evidently, some sitting near me had 5 or more same incorrect answers as I did. According to her statistics, that is too high on an exam of that length (51 questions) to be pure chance - therefore someone was copying. Since she can't prove who was copying (if at all), both myself and the other person got zeros. This also happened to several other students and they were outraged. I suppose I was mad as well, and kind of offended really, but it got me thinking. Has the current academic population sunk so low that honest students must now be penalized along with the cheating ones? Why do people feel the necessity to cheat anyway? As I walk around campus every day, I can begin to see some answers to my questions.

1) We have bought into the lie that life is easy.

Look around you and you will see a plethora of items that are sold under that mantra of "It's that easy!". Food products, weight loss gimmicks, electronics - you name it, it's out there. As Americans, we are all about making our lives easier. Distance learning so that we don't have to commute to class every day. Instant microwave rice in a bag because making it on the stovetop takes too long. Mobile phones providing instant access to Facebook because waiting until you're home to check how many likes your status got will take too long. A cookie diet that will help you lose weight fast because going to the gym every day and foregoing sweets is too hard. And so, if life is this easy, why should school be any harder? Why should we have to attend class every day and pay attention? Why can't I just slum through it and be happy with a C at the end of the semester? We are quickly learning that if we want something, we don't have to work that hard to get it. Compare that with a 3rd world country where the students have to walk 5-10 miles one way to school. I think if Americans today suddenly found themselves in that situation, everyone would be in uproar.

2) Working hard for something you want is a thing of the past

Now, before I continue, I must point out that I know lots of people to whom this does not apply. I would venture to say that America as a whole is slowly but surely drifting towards this line of thought, compared with the generation of 50-70 years ago. For example, my grandfather was born on a tobacco farm in North Carolina. When he was a boy, he would get up at the crack of dawn and do his farm chores. He would eat breakfast and begin the 5 mile walk to school. After school, he would walk the 5 miles back home and do his afternoon chores. It was only after dinner that he would begin his homework and then go to bed when he was finished - and the cyle began again. There was not time for nightly television shows, no time to check facebook, no time play video games - and he took great pride in his education. After World War II, he pursued his education and eventually attained his Ph.D. He taught business at a University for many years and truly enjoyed what he did. Would any of us survive in his circumstances? I'll be the first person to admit that no, I probably wouldn't survive - at first. Then, I suppose I'd get used to it. But what's our definition of "Working hard" - or has our work been made easy because of modern conveniences?

In short, I am disappointed with our culture, I am disappointed in our generation. It is not right that students (and people for that matter) should sink so low and assume they can just slink by. Why not take pride in the country we live in? Why not be proud for the educations we are receiving, some at the cost of other people's hard earned salary? Why? Because we're Americans. It's "our right" to these things and therefore, we take no pride in them. Would you take more pride in making cake and icing from a box that someone else bought or would you take pride in a cake made from scratch, that took many long and laborious hours? Sorry people, but education, healthcare, financial aid, welfare etc, they're not rights - they're privileges. And like my parents used to tell me, privileges can be earned, but they can also be taken away. I think it's high time we start earning these privileges again. Let's start putting in the hard work for what we want. My grandparents worked hard their entire careers to be able to draw from their Social Security benefits - but they had to put the money in first.

School is a privilege - and if I could tell every single freshman, sophomore etc at my school who are currently taking this privilege for granted by skipping class, posting pictures of themselves being bored in class, chatting and being disrespectful of the instructor, watching you tube videos on their iPad etc - If I could tell them that College isn't an extension of high school, I would. If I could tell them that the drinking isn't worth it, I would. If I could tell that that being able to down a 5th of vodka in one evening won't get them a job, but a diploma with good grades to back it up will, I would. If I could tell them that respect, honesty, and good intentions will get them much further in life than partying, lying and cheating will, I would. If I could tell the young ladies that a gentle and quiet spirit is so much more attractive than heavy makeup and baring the midriff and raggedy cutoffs, I would.

But even if I could tell them these things and more, they probably wouldn't listen. Because we are also raising a generation that knows it all. That because they saw it on Facebook, it must be true. That because the media says it's true it must be. We are losing the thinkers, the dreamers and the doers. Instead, we are gaining the Facebookers, the Instagramers, and the how-fast-can-I-text-ers.

I'm not mad I got a zero - Rather it has opened my eyes to the reality of the world as it is. An honest student got penalized because of the actions of a dishonest student. Not only will this mean I will ensure to do my 100% for the next exam, but I hope this encourages others around me to do the same. It's not about what's fair, not fair. No one ever said life would be fair. If life were fair, I'd be a millionaire with all the degrees I wanted, living in a mansion without a care in the world. But as it is, I'll just have to be content for working hard for what I want.

Power in Weakness

Today was one of those days. Those days where you want to throw your alarm clock against the wall. Where you want to roll over and go back to sleep. Where you'd do practically anything to make it Saturday Morning. 
But, unfortunately, it wasn't Saturday and there were still classes to attend and quizzes to take. 
To be honest, this was one of the most challenging days I've had in a very long time. Physically I felt horrible - Mentally, I was fuzzy - Emotionally, I was drained. Weak is also another good word for it. To complicate things, I have an iron deficiency and despite my best intentions (taking pill supplements etc) things aren't seeming to get any better. The iron deficiency is causing smells of food bring on bouts of almost insupressable nausea. Even the thought of food is enough to make my stomach curl. But it I don't stay hydrated or eat, that also causes nausea. It's a terrible conundrum. So this morning, nauseous, dizzy, unsteady..all of the above, I cried out to God. I couldn't do it on my own. Then this came to mind.

2 Corinthians 12:9

9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.

As I struggled for the first several hours of being at school, God met me in my time of need. 

I felt His presence all day and he gave me the strength to carry on even when I wanted 

to go home. 

He can also meet you in your weakness. His Grace is sufficient. His Power shines through

when we are at our weakest. It's times like these where I marvel at the God we serve..

Why One so mighty, so powerful, would bother with whiny, petty, and undeserving 

creatures like us.

Why? Like the catechism always used to remind us - merely because it pleases Him. 

Thankful

Dear Heavenly Father,
Sometimes, I don't know where to begin - and today is no exception. I've had a lot of things on my heart and mind lately which I don't know how to process. This year has definitely been one for the books as having to walk through a lot of changes. I'm not ungrateful for these changes at all. Rather, I am confused about how to walk through some of them and frankly afraid of not being able to do so.
I know you call us to walk though the doors of change,  but changing has always been so difficult for me; partially because of my personality and the love of being in my comfort zone. I don't like to be stretched - at least not at first. However, I know that beyond this growth period, a wealth of knowledge and gained experience await me.
The first major change of the year was getting married. We did so in January so that we could get the military paperwork in order for our move. I had also quit working to go back to school full time and while doing so, planned a wedding. Those 4 months were stressful, but You got me through it.
Then, we moved and as you know that was a rough transition to walk through. I was lonely, I missed my family, I missed having a routine - and I missed having the freedom of my own transportation. One by one, I've seen You answer those prayers as I am developing a network of friends here on base and You have provided us with a second car which has lifted a lot of stress.
And now, we have This. I shall refer to it as This because I don't want to reveal what This is just yet. Boy was This unexpected. I started the school year off with high aspirations of good grades and barreling through these last two years with my head held high. And then we found out about This. The semester has bee so hard already. This is making it that much more difficult and there are days where I barely have the strength to get out of bed. Functioning is a matter of will at this point. There are many times I as "why?". But I know deep down in my heart that This is a gift, not a curse. I know that ultimately, You will see me through this to the end. You've gotten me through so much more in my life and I am wrong to doubt you. Thank you for your never-ending faithfulness. Thank you for seeing me through the changes I have walked through thus far. I am excited to see how This pans out for your glory. Please grant me strength over the next weeks and months. It's only through your power and grace that I can do any of it anyway. Thank you for loving me enough to send your Son to die in my place.
In your Son's precious and Holy Name,
Amen.