For Brandi and Ben

Just two weeks ago, I was standing in front of a casket that held the body of my best friend. It barely looked like her and that only made me angry. I'd just driven almost twelve hours, alone in the car and I couldn't figure out what I was expecting to find or receive when I got there. I was so angry standing in that room filled with strangers, there were so many strange faces floating all around me. Even while clinging to the strong arm of a devoted friend I had to do everything in my power to keep from screaming out in anger and loneliness, "Who are you people?! Why are you here?! Did you even know this girl, I mean did you REALLY know this girl? Did you know even one thing about her heart, her passions, her journey? Did you sit back and watch as her heart was breaking? Did you do anything about it? Did you even try? Who the heck are you and why are you here?"

But clearly one can not behave like that in public so instead I ran away. I allowed myself to cry momentarily in a back hallway of the funeral home and then I reemerged with my big girl, "everything is going to be ok," game face on. Why? I don't know. I guess because the event was making me (subconsciously) regress to high school, a time that I always felt I had to have it all together, I couldn't let anyone know the tragedies that were taking place behind my smile, people thought I knew what I was doing and who was I to tell them other wise. I had to be the responsible one, the calm one, the one people could depend on.

Why!? Why are we always so afraid of making a scene? I'm not saying I should have been allowed to yell at all those people but maybe I should have given myself some sort of grace, to have taken off my mask and bawled my eyes out on the floor by her side, to have apologized for all the ways I failed her over the years, all the times I was selfish and didn't get around to returning her phone calls, for not fighting harder for her and to apologize for not having any clue how to now protect her beautiful baby boy. I should have let it all out right then and there in front of all those strangers but instead I ran away.

I didn't know how to handle the situation. I didn't know how to accept the cold, hard truth so I got in the car, went to dinner and ate LOTS of Italian food and wine because I know how to eat (and yes, I even danced a little), that is easier than attempting to sort out my feelings. I wasn't ready to deal with my emotions or the situation. I ran away to a place that I did not have to be responsible, where I wouldn't have to think about it.

While back at home, in NJ, my beautiful friends made it their mission to continually pursue me, encourage me and support me through phone calls, text messages and facebook. My core group of friends stood by me and refused to let me struggle alone.

I'm still experiencing moments when I feel the urge to call her and tell her something random, I still occasionally start laughing as I think of things that only she would think are funny. I shake my head and laugh at the stupid and idiotic things we did in high school and I still continue to dream about her beautiful face and life and I pray that these memories never go away.

Now, two weeks later, some of my dear friends, many the same ones who have been working so hard to encourage me, are experiencing their very own personal tragedy, as they struggle to come to terms with the loss of their good friend, Ben.

Although I never knew Ben, my heart is breaking for his life cut short, his family and his friends. I have found no explanation that lessens the struggle, I have found no specific words that make me feel better but I've discovered how strongly a friend's love can light up your life. This is my thank you to each of you who have poured out your love on me in the last two weeks. It has made all the difference. And now if I can do the same for you please let me know. And if you can learn from my mistakes, please do. You do not need to be strong (God is enough for the both of you), you do not have to have it all together (it only makes others feel that they should too), don't worry what others will think when you are vulnerable, cry (even when people say don't) and celebrate every good memory!


Originally written on August 23, 2011

Boardwalk Talk (Part One)

The other night I was walking on the boardwalk with my cousin. I happened to mention that my idea of a great date would be a guy taking me down the shore, eating pizza (and other goodies) on the boardwalk and then going miniature golfing. Then we laughed because that was what we were doing, minus the mini golf.

Later on, as we walked I was commenting on how important it is for girls (especially young ones) to feel desired and cared for by the men in their life (brothers, dads, cousins, etc) and the role rejection and abandonment can play in their lives. We then began talking about how close the two of us were growing up and all the riduculous games we played.  I jokingly said, "Yeah, we were so close for the longest time and then you just left me behind (when you became a teenager)." He responded with, "Oh, is that why you are such an awkward dater now (this was in response to an earlier conversation about my goofy, nonexistant love life)? I didn't realize that abandoning you would have that affect on you? Maybe this fake date will fix your problems."

So as hysterical as this is I would like to take a moment to encourage all the men out there to really make sure you are fighting for and supporting the women God has placed in your lives, especially sisters, cousins and moms. The truth of the matter is that we need you! We learn what to expect and what standards to set from the men we are closest to.

P.S. Ant, I don't blame you for my awkwardness.   :)

God's Story VS. My Story

(This is another one written from my phone so please forgive the grammatical errors)

For years I've felt like I'm supposed to write a book. As much as I don't feel like a writer I've felt called to share my story. I've struggled many times to begin writing. I've written various introductions and I've had many conversations with God asking Him, "How am I supposed to do this? I'm not a writer!" And even bigger than all that, "God! How am I supposed to write about this topic, these things when I haven't even conquered it/them myself yet?"

Here are some conclusions that I've come to....

Number One:
God said, "You will write a book". He never said, "You will write a book today." My story isn't finished yet. He isn't finished yet. He's still writing the story and I can't write it until he has revealed it to me and equipped me to write.

Number Two:
It's okay that I'm not the expert on anything. The calling in my heart is to tell MY story and on that I am an expert (sometimes). My story like so many other women's is one of vulnerability, of weakness, of tears and confusion, of struggle, pain and heartbreak. But also joy and laughter, of hope and encouragement. My story is a battle, my story is one without answers, my story is a victory. My story is just that, my story.

Number Three:
Sometimes the story we want to write is not the story God wants to write. I mean this in the literal sense and also in the metaphorical sense. First, I've been trying to write this book, trying to piece it all together, assuming that I know the point the story should make but really if I step back for a moment I realize that God didn't reveal that to me yet, I just went running ahead.  And metaphorically, it's almost exactly the same. I go through life and God gives me one clue, one piece of the puzzle (with school, friends, jobs and guys) and I get so excited that I immediately begin to run ahead (can somebody say this girl needs patience and pacing!?!) without the rest of the information, without instructions, without God!!

I'm like the little kid in class (here comes Ms. Smith) that as soon as the teacher introduces the project they are immediately tearing things apart, cutting, gluing, writing, etc. The kid often doesn't even hear the first word of the instructions and then they wonder what went wrong or say, "But you never told me that!" And of course the teacher says, "If you had been listening you would have heard me say it twice." It usually takes the kid a few times to learn their lesson. Maybe now after a few "screwed up projects" I'm learning to have patience and find a balance between the excitement and waiting for instructions.

So whether you're literally writing a book or if you're just not sure what the next step is in life remember that sometimes the story we want to write is not the same one He wants to write. My advice to you (and myself) is to aim for the one he is writing. I've always found he does a much better job than me.