Battleships

I know I haven't written in a while, but there's not been much to write about.  My days are repetitive and blend together into weeks, then months.  However, I feel I can say that I have friends in Michigan now. :)  That much has improved!

I was browsing my Facebook this morning, examining yet ANOTHER new, forced format for my profile when I realized that they post my "Notes" on my wall now.  Interesting.  I couldn't even remember what I'd written in the past.

Then I stumbled on this.  It's a note I wrote to a couple of people I love intensely almost exactly a year ago and it still holds a lot of meaning.  And the dream still plays perfectly in my mind:

I always used to think that people who grew up in a loving home, where the parents did they best they could to teach the love of God to their children, would eventually see the errors of their ways and turn to Christ.  Even if it were only that last moment before death--surely it would happen.

But I had a dream last night.

In my dream we were all together.  We were on a ship, like a cruise ship, except this one was flying.  We were enjoying life, hanging out, when all of the sudden someone came over the PA system and announced that America was in a new stage of terrorism alert.  Stage black.  Newscasters and prominent voices across the world were saying that in this stage, there was a 98% chance of a terroriest attack.

Not too much later, it was announced.  America was under seige.

He and I had been in a seperate room, talking.  This room wasn't crowded, as it was an unfinished room on the ship.  The walls and floors only had insulation on them and the wooden beams were bare.  No drywall or anything had been hung and there were no windows.  As soon as it was announced, he became so scared.  The look on his face... I can't even describe it.  I hurt so bad because I was sure he was thinking about "all the time" he'd always imaged that he would have in his life that could potentially be gone in moments.  People all around us were panicing, running to find family and friends, not wanting to be alone in their fear.  Some of them sat down in corners together, crying, talking.  Swaying as they held each other.

I turned my head for a moment, and in that moment, He hid.  He was terrified, I knew, and in his fear, dug his way under the insulation in the floor in a back room we'd been sitting near.  I felt in that moment he was believed if he could just hide his head... just close his eyes... just pretend... it would go away.  This was a dream.  My heart ached.

My friend.  Scared.  Feeling alone.  Hiding from his fears behind closed eyes.

I went into the room upstairs to see how everyone else was doing.

They were sitting by a window, watching the skies.  She looked nervous and scared, but the average person on the street wouldn't be able to tell.  Even now, the invisible audience was a priority.  But her eyes told all.  I sat down by her and we looked out the window together.  Just watching.  Hovering, trying to see if it was true.  Wondering if we would be a part of this war.

And then we saw them.

The enemy, flying through the air, big as battleships.  They were painted red and blue and were speweing fire every time they released a missle.  My arms went around her as we both watched as one was released toward us and she started to scream and cry, "This isn't fair!  I'm too young!  I am supposed to have more life to live!"

We blinked as it hit the ship somewhere beneath us and the power went out.  The second after, we were together, but alone in the darkness.

I jumped up and ran downstairs to get him, not wanting him to be alone during this, only to find his fear had taken over and he'd passed out.  I dragged him out of his insulated cocoon and threw him on my back.  Pushing my way through the clamor, I stumbled up the stairs in the darkness and made my way back to the rest of them.

Just as I saw them... Just as I got close enough to call out their names...  

I felt like I'd been hit by a wall of air.

My vision went white and I felt as high as I'd ever been.

It was over.

I woke up shaking.  Terrified.  I've never had a dream where I could so vividly taste the fear.  All around me were people.  And each of them knew that at any moment, all their dreams, plans, and any type of future they might have had could be gone.  What broke my heart the most, though, was that in those last moments.  Those moments right before death.  The moments that I've always been "sure" would affect those two...

They didn't.

And I have no idea where they went.

Sometimes It's Okay To Be A Creeper

Yesterday was crazy.  And by crazy, I mean intense.

The morning started off with me being so excited to job hunt.  I was optimistic about the possibilities, full of energy, and planning on making appearances at the stores since it seems that filling online applications out does close to zero good.

I called stores ahead of time to verify that they were hiring, did a few follow-up calls for some positions I'd previously applied for, and then took a shower, put my face on, and headed out the door to for some face time with prospective employers.  I applied at Teavana and Jimmy John's in person, and then both Lucy's Activewear and Bare Escentuals asked me to fill out the online applications and assured me they actually check them.

Regardless of how excited I was when I started, it didn't take too long for me to start feeling down-in-the-dumps.  I'm a 24 year-old intelligent college graduate who has years of supervisory work experience (not to mention some pretty good life experience) and here I am, running around competing with kids still in high school for jobs that pay slightly above minimum wage.

Welcome to Michigan, folks.

I've moved from the land of milk and honey to the dang desert.  I feel like surely manna has to start falling from the sky sometime... right?

To top it off, something, somewhere along the line triggered my homesickness.  Maybe it was running around town for a few hours and not seeing a single familiar face.  Maybe it was the song on the radio that Ike incessantly listens to.  Or maybe it was calling Jessica for a pep talk and realizing that no matter how hard I wished, she was still a ten-hour drive away from giving me a reassuring hug.

Either way, I started to cry on my way home from the mall.  And I was still crying when I got home.

I think Isaac thought there was something terribly wrong because I'm not sure that I've ever returned to the apartment from anywhere (except Iowa) in tears.  He was trying to figure it out and I told him it was my job search but thankfully he's insightful enough to know there was more to it than that.

He let me calm myself down a little bit while we talked.  Or rather, I cried and he sympathetically stared at me.  I finally thought I'd maybe beaten my tears when my phone rang.

It was my mom.  She apparently has awful timing.

So... off to bed I went, tears starting fresh again while Isaac graciously answered the phone for me.  He came in later to check on me, hugged me and snuggled me for a bit, and then left me to sleep it off.

Later on that night I was hanging out on Facebook being a creeper, like everyone on Facebook is, and all of the sudden, a chat box popped up on the lower right-hand side of my screen.  It was the homemade baby wipes girl.  Name: Lindsey Taber.

We had the opportunity to chat until I could barely hold my eyes open anymore and lots of cool things were revealed along the way.  Let me just brief you on it.

For starters, she is a fellow Iowan.  That in itself is huge.  I love Iowans.  Secondly, her husband is in the medical field.  He is doing his residency at Henry Ford Macomb, which is where Isaac will be doing his round starting June/July-ish this year.  Again, lovely.  Next, she loves God.  That is bigger than the other two combined, so far as pluses go.  And yes, it CAN get even better.  We started talking about church and guess what?  They go to the same one we do!  At the same time!!  And then I was creeping on her profile even more after we quit talking, and realized she went to TSPA too!

The random conversation I creeped on that instigated said random message.  I was originally creeping because her baby looked exactly like the daughter of the family I interviewed for on Saturday.

Gravy sakes!!  Can it even get any better?  I'm not sure that it can!

The entire time we were chatting I was sitting, staring at my computer completely enthralled.  I was beaming from ear to ear and probably looked like a fool and occasionally Isaac would look over and giggle at me because I was giggling for absolutely no reason, other than the fact that I was SO happy God sent another Christian female my way.  Or rather, He momentarily provided me with the balls to randomly message someone I had Facebook creeped on simply because they lived close and were from Iowa.  Regardless of how you want to look at it... I was giddy!

Around midnight I went to bed, completely emotionally wasted.  I felt like a tractor had dragged a field cultivator through my brain and my body was just as tired from our intense week at the gym so I knocked out pretty quick.  And I'm pretty sure I slept like a rock.

I am incredibly thankful that I have a Father above who so graciously looks out for me when I can't hold myself together any longer.  I was bursting last night because He lovingly provided me with another friend when I felt like a single paint drop in the chaos of an original Jackson Pollock.

My heart is smiling.

What Will They See?

This morning I was wondering.  In the not-too-distant future, what will my kids think when they look back on my digital footprints?

Will they think I was a geek?  Smart?  A snob?  Compassionate?  Superficial?  Crazy?

Obviously only so much of who I am can be shown through pictures and text, but of what is shown, what does it say?

I'm sure it will reveal somewhat where my priorities were at each step in time.

Already, looking back though my profile pictures in Facebookland, I can see that very drastic changes have happened in the past five years.  For instance, check out this picture.  And then read the title on it.

Yep.  You read it right.  It does, indeed, say "my bro and his girl."  As awkward as it is for me to vocalize now, at that point in time I thought I was so cool.  Let me explain why.

You see, for some time I've been a stickler for correct grammar.  I didn't realize it for sure until entering college after spending the past several years underlining the noun and/or pronouns, double-underlining verbs, crossing out prepositional phrases, circling adjectives, and drawing arrows from the adverb back to the verbs they were describing (thank you, homeschooling).

I'm so much in love with it that I actually thoroughly enjoy editing papers and creating a red-pen masterpiece over someone's draft.  It pains me to use abbreviations and the number "2" instead of typing out "two" in my blog, texts, Tweets, and Facebook status. My teeth automatically clench and inwardly I cringe when I see people abuse "their," "they're," and "there."

And yet, I labeled that picture, "my bro and his girl."

Ugh.  Can you say barf?

However, even to this day, I know what was going on in my head when I wrote that exact caption.  I was trying to fit the mold for what I thought an African American boyfriend would like.  It's embarrassing to say for some reason, but I'm just putting it out there, since it's probably not all that difficult for those of you who knew me during that time to figure out anyway.  I have no idea why, but I know it drove my parents crazy for a while.  They used to always say to me, "Do you know you're white?"

Yes.  I knew.  But I've just always been more attracted to boys with a beautiful, permanent tan.  And African American hair is so cool!  Regardless of my reasons, I was on the hunt to find me a sweet caramel hubby.  Thankfully, this was one of those instances where my priorities apparently aligned with God's, because Isaac's got one of the nicest tans I've ever seen.

A good example of my African American hair infatuation.  This was during my first week of freshman year at Iowa State.  I had wanted some microbraids, but wasn't about to pay $100 or so for someone else to do them so I Googled how to do them and then sat in the attic for 9 straight hours putting them in.  I'd do it again.

My friend, Natalie, jokes about my infatuation.  She refers to me as her, "gangster friend," or something like that, because when I met her... well, I thought I was a gangster.  Granted, I had NO idea what a real gangster was... it just sounded exciting.

Good gravy!  Writing this blog is a smidge embarrassing!!

But it's the truth!!!  I thought that I was some kind of bad-a$$ because I bought my Baby-Phat clothes out of a hustler's trunk, could braid some wicked cornrows, and understood ebonics while a lot of my fairer-skinned friends couldn't.

Oh my lord.  I can't believe I'm confessing to all of this.

But then again.  It's not like you couldn't tell what was running through my head.  I mean, seriously?  At the time I thought nobody could tell...  but who was I kidding?

Glory almighty.

I'll have to save my adventures for some other time, because right now I'm already blushing and shaking my head, remembering all of this.  I just can't even get over it.

Someday my kids are going to look at me and say, "Mom, what the heck were you thinking??"

I'll just going to have to tell them, "I don't know sweetie.  I don't know..."

It'll be interesting.  That's for sure.