She's aliiiiive.

It's day 9 of my 10 day quarantine. It appears the world has kept on spinning without me and I have missed the first week of November. What a shame. Some celebrities ate at some restaurant and had their photo taken and posted to some website. Some teams won some sporting events. Some professors assigned some homework. Some weather happened. Some election took place. Or so I'm told.

In the last ten days, I have seen a total of five people aside from the dozens of doctors and hospital personnel (and the friends who let me sleep on their couch that I briefly saw for five minutes while I was high on morphine. Thanks again for your love and comfy couch). I'm not complaining, really. I needed the time to heal. Also in the last ten days, I've received phone calls, texts, messages, emails, Facebook posts, cards, and letters all with well wishes and prayers. I feel so loved and I thank everyone who has checked on me or sent up a prayer on my behalf.

You don't know dependence on another person until you have had to be held upright while you sit on the toilet, have bath time supervised, ask someone else to wash and dry your hair, have every meal, snack, and drink prepared and brought to your bedside, be handed the medication that is two inches out of your reach, or be dressed while you lay on your bed crying in pain. I see why the elderly don't want to move into nursing homes. I have seen a glimpse of my future and I do not like it. Hopefully, any more permanent dependence is at least five decades away.

I feel as though I have done nothing for the past week. Not that I could, really. But for someone who enjoys a busy lifestyle, I have felt lazy to just lay here, alternating taking medications, sleeping, and watching Netflix. It was like a vacation from life that I didn't plan or ask for. But most often in my sickly life journey, I don't get to decide when to rest and take a few days break, but rather, it is decided for me. So maybe, I just needed the rest. I should be caught up on sleep for the rest of the semester. Maybe since I was so sick this last week, I will get to skip being sick for finals week, as I always am. It hasn't failed yet, but I am already praying it does.

Being sickly takes its toll on you, physically and mentally. My body should be well rested, but my spirit is exhausted. I feel weak and frail. I feel a little down. I feel no desire to get up, do homework, or do anything besides continue in my Netflix binge watching and sleeping. I'm tired. I'm worn. I'm hoping a busy week and some time with friends, starting Monday, will be just what I need to perk back up. I've been told repeatedly that everyone has missed my smiling face, but I have missed the faces that make mine happy. I'm a people person. I'm energized by those around me. And when I feel like giving up, it's my family and friends who make me want to keep going. Although my body can't always take my busy schedule, my mind and soul need to be occupied by all the good around me. I live for the good.

So although it appears that I have fallen off the face of the earth, don't worry - I will return soon. I will return with my bossy nature, my overly scheduled life, my color coded calendar, my long rants about my day, my drama queen attitude, my annoying willingness to plan not only my activities, but yours as well, and my need to organize the planet. But just let me be for a few days. Let me reacclimate to my life. Let me enjoy being a little too organized, a little too planned, a little too bossy, and a little too social. Because I have sure missed it. 

Just be still.

As I lay bedridden for the next two days, I am left with few options of entertainment:

1.) Texting friends as a desperate attempt to hear of what is going on in the real world. Updates on sporting events, what they did last night, even what they had for lunch. Anything is interesting, really.

2.) Dictate homework to someone or write papers on my phone. But that requires thinking in Spanish or economics terminology. My head hurts too much for that.

3.) Convincing dad to duct tape my TV to the ceiling so I can watch Netflix on something larger than an iPad mini. Right now, lying flat is the option that produces the smallest amount of pain. This means I can't see my TV, and can only see the iPad with my head in an awkward position.

4.) Holding my cat hostage in my room so I have some company. I could use duct tape on her too, or just hold her really tight, but either option would leave me with cat scratches on every inch of uncovered skin, including my face. I like my face.

5.) Blog (on my phone, held above my face) about my interesting Halloween night that landed me in the ER. No, it included no crazy parties, drunken injuries, or stupid decisions. It was probably one of the lamer ways to end up in the ER.

Wednesday night after church, my sister and I went shopping for Halloween party supplies and went to her house to decorate and make costumes for our party with the church college group next night. I started getting a headache sometime while making my (awesome) Wilson the volleyball costume. By the time I was driving home, turning my head to check my blind spot made me feel like my head had a knife through it. 

I have a bed time routine: pajamas, wash face, brush teeth, take meds, call boyfriend, watch TV, gradually fall asleep, wake up to turn TV off, actually fall asleep. When I got home, I barely took my makeup off, knocked back my meds, and crawled into bed, careful not to toss and turn and move my throbbing head. This was the worst headache of my life. My sister gets migraines fairly often, but I wasn't sure this was one based on what I know hers are like. She has vision changes, dizziness, and can't even move from the pain. Mine didn't seem that bad, but I guess they can be different for everyone.

Thursday morning, my wake up call came at 8:30 am for my 9:30 am class. I barely rolled over and it felt as though my brain did somersaults before slamming into the side of my head. Ouch. I emailed my professor to say I would be missing class and went back to sleep.

When I woke up again, I felt sore. Like my brain had lifted weights and done a workout while I slept. I carefully got up, got ready, and went to my second class, third class, work, and the Halloween party, taking Tylenol a few times throughout the day. I seemed fine, but exhausted at the end of the night.

Typical Friday: Spanish, Economics, Work, go home. I was volunteering at a local assisted living facility that night with my church for their Halloween party. I had a great time, dressing the residents in costumes, helping them pass out candy to the trick or treaters, and helping them back to their rooms. I love visiting there; I feel that everyone these is about my pace. And for once, I can be the fastest, and maybe even healthiest, in the room.

Towards the end of the event, my migraine like headache was coming back. I figured it was because I was tired and hadn't eaten since lunch, now almost eight hours ago. Mom and I quickly left when it was over, got some food, and went home to watch Grey's Anatomy while we ate. After the show ended, I stumbled upstairs to bed, after taking 1,000 mg of Tylenol. I know, that was too much, but it's not like it was helping.

After only a few minutes in bed, I called mom into my room, crying. Light and sound hurt, I felt nauseated, and my head was throbbing so much that it was like I could hear my head hurting. After some discussion, we decided to head to the ER. At 11pm. On Halloween. And that is where the real "fun" began.

We got to the ER and signed in around 11:45. As we pulled up, I saw a man in a banana suit, happily bouncing in with a group of about 6-8 other people. Once inside, half a dozen policemen, about 25 people, and several in costume, filled the waiting room. One, slightly drunk, man was upset that the ER wouldn't immediately put his shoulder back into place and left for another ER. Mom and I checked in and sat down. I put my head on her shoulder and she tried to cover my eyes from the light.

After only a few peaceful moments, a very drunk girl dressed as what appeared to be a genie, came out of triage crying. "I just want someone to care and take care of meeeee," she loudly whined. Her friends tried to hold in laughter as they tried to tend to her, while apologizing to the lady next to them. They told her that genie had fallen down the stairs, busting her chin, and needed stitches. The ER was so full, they couldn't do her stitches right then.

She continued to cry and apologize about how she had ruined her friends' Halloween. After a string of profanities, she announced she was going to vomit. At some point during these ten minutes, I told mom I wasn't above hitting a drunk girl. I get grumpy when I'm in the ER, with a throbbing head. Mom began looking for another place to sit and found one next to farmer John, a man who wanted to tell us about every family member he has who gets migraines and what they do to help them. Clearly, he didn't understand that migraines mean I don't want people to loudly talk to me or about me. As I contemplated whether or not to return to the other section to sit by the intoxicated genie, my name was called and I went to triage.

My vitals were taken, and because of my medical history, I was immediately taken back to a room. After twenty minutes or so, a resident doctor came to discuss what we should do. He expressed his concern for brain hemorhaging since the pain was sudden and I had no history of migraines. Woo.

After what seemed like forever, a very nice nurse Ashley came in to start an IV. She returned another forever later with orders to give me a migraine cocktail. The only cocktail I've ever had, but not a drinkable one. No, it consisted of three drugs being pushed through the IV, and another as a shot in the stomach. As the drugs entered my body, I felt a funny, burning sensation in my chest. I felt dizzy, and tried to hold back tears. I was sure an autonomic crisis would hit, and I would soon feel like I was dying. It finally passed, and I fell asleep.

Later, I was awoken by a lady confirming information and taking our copay, and finally someone to take me to get a CT scan. I was so groggy, I fell asleep during the five minute scan, but that probably helped calm my nerves.

The rest of the night was a blur of doctors waking me to talk about what would happen if they saw a bleed or didn't, and asking how I was feeling. Finally, we found out the CT scan showed nothing, but the only was to confirm there was no bleed was to have a spinal tap. I could feel my body begin to panic from the inside out. I don't mind most medical tests, but this was one I did not want. After much persuasion, I finally agreed.

The nurse gave me morphine, and then the resident and his attending came in for the spinal tap. I tried to pretend I was a patient on Grey's anatomy, but sadly Dr. McDreamy was not the one about to administer my spinal tap. I climbed into the awkward spinal tap position and rested my head on mom's shoulder. She quietly talked to me, trying to calm me, and telling me to be nice to the poor doctors. She told me the process was similar to an epidural, but I reminded her she got two babies out of that. What was I getting? I think I talked her into a new pair of shoes or a purse.

I felt the numbing needle on my spine and the doctor rubbing the medicine around. He kept adding more until I couldn't feel the needle. I'm not one to mind needles. I even like to watch the blood flow through the tube when I get blood drawn. But the thought of a four inch needle penetrating my spinal cord, possibly centimeters away from paralyzing me, wasn't a fun thought.

The needle entered slowly; I felt no sharpness, but only a type of pressure I can't explain. It almost felt as though my bad was locking up around the needle, as if my body knew that foreign object should not be in my back and was trying to force it out. They got it in the right spot fairly quickly and began letting the liquid drip out. One, two, three, four tubes later, they finished and pulled the needle out. My head immediately felt immense pain, and my back felt..well, like a four inch needle just came out of it.

After the spinal tap, I played around my phone, checking my email. The verse of the day from KLove included, "Be courageous. Be strong." God knew what I needed.

I slept until the doctor came back, telling me the spinal tap was normal. So no brain surgery, that's good. But I still feel like I had a needle in my back for nothing. I didn't even get to be on a medical TV show, but mom assured me, I would be the patient of the night the show was about. The doctor wrote a prescription for the same medication they injected in my stomach earlier, but in pill form, and said I should follow up with neurology for complex migraines. I was released around 7:45, 8 hours after we first got to the ER. It was a long night.

I don't know how I got lucky enough to receive so many medical conditions. It's as though when Jesus was handing out issues, he forgot he already gave me one, and then gave me enough for a dozen people. I may never know why I have these issues or why new ones keep developing, but I have faith my God knows. He knows why and He knows how this fits into his marvelous plan.

So as I lie here, unable to get out of bed until at least Monday, unable to even take a shower because I can't stand, unable to do much of anything, I try to stay positive. Because I have faith, because I am His, and because despite the chaos my body feels, there is something almost peaceful about feeling helpless. Because when I can't do anything about the situation, I HAVE to trust in Him.

"The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still."
-Exodus 14:14

And so I will.

Gentle hugs to you all

I'm a hugger. I hug anyone and everyone, sometimes against their will. I am convinced that hugs make the world go round. But sometimes people squeeze me just a little too tight, pat me a little too hard, or even high five me with too much force. I'm fragile. The glue that holds my body together doesn't work well and having my body jarred around or hit makes it even worse.

Mom often jokes that I need a t-shirt that says, "Please don't touch me." But that seems a little extreme. I'm usually too embarrassed to tell people to be gentle around me and often times, even the gentlest hugs or touches can still hurt. It's not uncommon that when my hand is being held I say, "Ow, you're dislocating my finger." Or someone will pat me on the back and it will sting for five minutes. Or somebody will hug me and I will tense up in pain because my body is too inflamed to even be touched.

I don't want people to afraid to hug me. I love hugs and I need them. I just want to make everyone aware of how much it hurts, even if you think it's "not that hard." What's worse is that if I ever tell people that they hurt me, they tell me it wasn't hard and I need to toughen up. I would if I could.

People always ask how they can pray for me or help me. So after years of suffering through people's hugs, I am finally asking everyone to be gentle(r). I live sick, I live in pain, but I love the comfort of (gentle) pats on the back, hugs, and high fives. So please keep them coming, but be aware that you're not as gentle as you think you are.

My name is Stacie and I like gentle hugs.

Choices

As I sit in the bathroom, staring down at the blue and white tiled floor that hasn't been replaced since the 70's, I am reminded of all of the other times I have sat in this bathroom. The day I went into an autonomic crisis and my teacher told me to leave class early because I couldn't stop crying. The day during my first final of the week, that I started vomiting profusely and both my best friend and sister ran across campus to get to me and help. And the days when I was just really scared or overwhelmed and just needed a place to think. Case annex first floor bathroom is my place. And for those of you who know what the case annex bathrooms look and smell like, you can see why this isn't the best place to be sad or sick. And yet I find myself here time and time again.

I wish I could choose where I got sick, when I had an autonomic crisis, and when I just felt so fatigued that I couldn't continue what I was doing. But more often than not, it happens at times and places that are less than convenient. Like during class, 8 am finals, work, presentations, hanging out with friends, and church. I can't even tell you how many sermons I have listened to through the PA system from the couch in the college room or the bathroom. Last semester, I jokingly said that I didn't deserve credit for one of my classes because I must have spent at least a fourth of the lectures in the bathroom, sick and crying.

But you know, even if I could choose where and when I got sick, I don't know what I would choose. The class that may be boring but is helping me earn the degree I want so badly? The dinner with my friends that I paid $12 for? In the middle of a good sermon or song that uplift me spiritually? Or when I am at home enjoying my bed and what little rest I find at the end of each day? No, I wouldn't choose any of that. But luckily I don't have to. Some choices you make and some choices make you.

Ehlers-Danlos made me. My heart condition made me. Dysautonomia made me. I didn't choose to be sick, and yet I am. I've sat and wondered why many times only to be reminded that even if I knew why, how, or for how long, it wouldn't make any of it any better. So I make choices too. I choose to put a smile on my face, most days. I choose to continue my education even though sometimes each day, each class, and each moment are struggles. I choose friendship, family, love, and fun. I don't choose anger. I don't choose sadness. I don't choose sickness. I choose to be more than the diseases that have chosen me and try to consume my life. I choose happiness.

Sometimes I wish I wasn't sick. I'm guilty of whining, "I just want to be normal." But then I am reminded that "this too shall pass." Whether in this life or the next, I won't always be sick. I won't always feel pain. Someday I will have a glorious new body that feels nothing buy joy. Until that day, I am praying for everything I do to bring God glory. I pray that every ache, pain, sniffle, cough, palpitation, and tear will somehow praise my maker. Because no matter how weak I feel, God's strength is never changing, his love for me never wavers, and he brings new mercies and blessings each day.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10:

And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

A happy and "healthy" summer

I'm not a very good blogger. If I can even call myself one, really. I mean, I absolutely love to write. I typically have no problem sharing my thoughts and opinions and putting them out there for the world to read. It doesn't even always take me that long to write a post. I sit down, start typing, and it all just kind of flows out. But usually it's because things aren't going well. Usually, it's because I am hurting and need a place to let the hurt out. I blog not because I really think people need to know what's going on with me, but because I need to write, let it out, and cry.

Things have been great lately and maybe that's why I haven't posted in over three months. But regardless of why I haven't written in a while, I would like to make blogging a more regular habit. For those of you who regularly read my blog, you probably think I am chronically depressed and want to make you that way too. After all, the comment I most often receive about my blog is, "You made me cry." Sorry. So instead of making you cry (hopefully), let me tell you about my awesome summer and update you on all things Stacie.

I've had a fairly healthy few months. I got sick during finals week, as I always do, but most healthy people even get sick then. I had a week to rest and then I began my internship with Richmond Tourism. I am currently in week 8 of my 13 week internship and I am having a blast. but also getting a taste of "the real world" and a "big girl job." I get up at the same time everyday, I go to work, I take a lunch break, and I get home and sometimes wonder where my day has gone. It's interesting how jobs work that way. I spend my days managing social media pages, giving directions and talking with tourists (YES, Richmond has tourists), and laughing at the hilarious ladies I get to work with. My name at the office is Melani, I'm still not entirely sure why.

Aside from my internship, I have managed to make time for 4-H camp, friends, family, and church. I just got back from a fun-filled and slightly stressful week at 4-H camp. I didn't fall this year and only cried once. It really was a fantastic week. Luckily, I had two of my best friends by my side the entire time and I don't think I would have survived without them. They helped in every way possible from letting me sleep just a little longer, to carrying my bags for me, to singing with the kids when my voice just wouldn't work, and even to helping me attach my medical equipment and reminding me to take my medications.

My friends are awesome and I have enjoyed celebrating summer with them. I have had Starbucks dates, craft nights of girl talk and tutu making, party planning, birthday celebrations, and lunch dates. One of my best friends has found herself in Louisville for the summer to complete an internship that I am convinced was created for her. Although I am thrilled for her and this opportunity, I miss her and am counting down until she is back in Richmond. Seven more weeks. 

My best friend and I are spending the summer together, chasing adventures, and making memories. I never thought this summer would prove to be such an exciting and memorable one for us, but I am thankful for each day spent together laughing over inside jokes, Skyping until 2am, eating so. much. food, singing silly songs about a drunken moose, coordinating our calendars and planning out the next few months, and just loving and living this crazy life.

As for my many medical conditions, all is well and stable. My biannual cardiology visit was fine, showing no real change from the previous tests. My EDS is under control with a lot of heating pads, taping, braces, and pain medications. I haven't had an autonomic crisis in awhile and the ones that have started, I have been able to quickly prevent. To treat the PCOS, a condition I may have not mentioned before, I will soon begin a new medication. I am praying for a smooth transition with no strange side affects. Balancing four different conditions and a dozen different medications is tough enough; I don't need added symptoms from one medicine.

I don't know if I have been healthier the last few months due to a lack of stress, a better medical regimen, or just more happiness. Perhaps, all three. Although I can count the number of days in the past few months I have gone without pain, zero, I can also count the days that I have been happy to be alive, all of them. Life is easier to deal with if you have a smile on your face, friends by your side, and a God above taking care of you. I may have to live life sick, but some days, I get to forget.

With some people's company and a right attitude, sometimes, just for a moment, I forget about the pain, the conditions, the drugs, the medical equipment, and the worry. I forget it all and just close my eyes and breathe life in. I sit in the sunshine, I watch kids run around, laughing and talking, I listen to the sound of the birds chirping and cars whirling by, I look at the faces of the ones who love me, and I pray to my God who made me. And in those moments, despite this crazy life, my strange circumstances, and all the things trying to bring me down, I smile and I am just happy.

I felt Jesus.

This week, I have been overwhelmed by love. Love from God. Love from my family. Love from my friends.

Last week was hard. It started Monday morning and it continued through Sunday. I just felt like one thing after another was attacking me. First, my health. Then, my relationships. Then, my own peace. I felt shaken. I felt uneasy. I felt like too many changes occurred in too short of a time. I hate change. I hate uneasiness. I hate not being in control.

In my moments of weakness, I began to feel a little sorry for myself. But the outpouring of love I received quickly reminded me that even the midst of a storm, I am so blessed.

During every trial this week, my family and friends held me up. I didn't have to cry one tear alone. Whether on the phone or in person, giving encouraging words, praying for me, or holding me close, everyone rallied around to make sure I knew I was loved and I was not alone.

Sometimes the reason we feel so alone is because we don't let anyone know when something is wrong. Sometimes we become so prideful that we can't possibly admit that we are flawed, emotional, and damaged people. We create a facade and work so diligently to uphold our image of perfection.

I'm not perfect. I'm scarred. I have bruises. I have uncertainty. I lack peace. I lack discipline. I lack so much. But what I lack, my Jesus makes up for. And while I am weak, He is strong. While I fail him daily, He never fails me. And I believe Jesus uses the people and things around us, as an extension of Him, to hold and comfort us. I know this because I felt it this past week.

I felt Jesus in my daddy's hug when I was having an autonomic crisis and sobbing uncontrollably.
I felt Jesus in the little girl from church who innocently asked what my tens unit was.
I felt Jesus in the hugs of my friends when I had tear filled eyes.
I felt Jesus in the friend who drove more than an hour to bring me chocolate and give me a hug.
I felt Jesus in the texts friends and family sent to let me know they were praying for me.
I felt Jesus in the celebration and baptism of my friend's decision to live for Christ.
I felt Jesus in the music at church that spoke to my heart.
I felt Jesus in the heart to heart I had with two sweet sisters in Christ.
I felt Jesus in the prayer we lifted up holding hands and shedding tears.
I felt Jesus in the invitation talk at church, where the topic was trials and I, of course, cried.
I felt Jesus in my mother's hospitality toward the dozen college students in her home.
I felt Jesus in the sunshine and breeze while sitting in the ravine.
I felt Jesus in the coming together of what I thought was a lost opportunity.
I felt Jesus in the friend who stands by me, no matter what the issue.
I felt Jesus in Bible study as we shared our struggles and our need for each other.
I felt Jesus in the Amen song at church.
I felt Jesus in the text messaged between me and my fellow zebra.
I felt Jesus in the new friends who encouraged me with a lot of laughter.
I felt Jesus in the music on K-Love, while driving to school.
I felt Jesus in my time of personal prayer.
I felt Jesus in the encouragement of a friend discovering our loving Heavenly Father.
I felt Jesus in the sky, the trees, the beauty that surrounds me in this earth.
I felt Jesus in the things I so often take for granted.
I felt Jesus in people.
I felt Jesus in things.
I felt Jesus through His providential grace.
I felt Jesus because He knew I needed to.
I felt Jesus because I need Him.

Maybe I would feel Jesus more if I looked. If I was open to hearing what He is trying to tell me. This week, Jesus allowed me to be broken so that I could be made whole again. He allowed me to be poured out - all the worry, pain, and struggle - so that I could be filled with Him. While I still may not understand why everything happens the way it does, I know He does. While what I want may not happen, God uses these times to remind me that His plans are so much better than anything I could ever imagine for myself. All I need is faith.

For the friends and family who showed me Jesus this week, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I could never explain how much I needed you and how you all helped me, perfectly, in your own way, and at the right time. I love you all and I feel so blessed to have such an amazing support system. I know I have incredible people in my life when others start pointing out how awesome it is that so many people care for me. When it comes to love, I am certainly not lacking.

I am full today. Full of love. Full of joy. Full of God's amazing grace. 

And though my health may fail...

When it rains, it pours. I don't think that statement has ever been truer than it was a few hours ago. 

Sometimes when I finish an antibiotic, I get sick immediately after with the same symptoms.

Sometimes my "bad knee" (or should I say my worse knee) acts up, causing discomfort. 

Sometimes this one place on my back hurts, despite the constant medication, tens unit, hip brace, heat, pain patches, and rest. This creates severely limited mobility, due to the terrible pulling feeling and all the medical equipment I pile on to help it. 

Sometimes my stomach hurts badly and I writhe in pain. 

Sometimes my headaches are so bad, I feel as though my head with implode. 

Sometimes I wake up in pain, crying, and praying to just make it to the end of the day. 

Sometimes I send "pray for me" texts to my friends, just because I need to know I have a little extra help that day. 

Sometimes I have to crawl back into bed and cancel my day. 

Sometimes people just don't understand. 

All of those sometimes are today. 

While I am quite used to pain, discomfort, and dislocations, I am not used to feeling so low. I'm always happy, I keep a smile on my face. But sometimes, I just can't do it. Today I can't. Today, I am a lot slower and a little less happy. Today, I feel down. Today, I need some extra prayer.

I'm not a sad person. I'm constantly told how strong I am and that I don't feel sorry for myself. But sometimes I do. Sometimes I just need someone to hold my hand and tell be that it will be okay. I need someone to assure me that the world will wait on me and time will stand still until I'm better. But they can't, because it won't. 

So today, I lay in bed, knowing the world is going on without me. Knowing that tomorrow, I will have a lot to do to catch up. But today, the quiz can wait. The presentation can wait. The paper can wait. Hanging out with friends can wait. Today, I will relax and try to get my body back into a functioning state. Today, I will have peace, knowing that tomorrow will come and it will be better. 

People say my blog posts are sad. And maybe they're right. Maybe I need to try to share the happy stuff too. But when I am sad and feeling sorry for myself, this is my way out, this is how I deal with it. This where I release the emotion, the tears, and the pain. This is where I can find some peace. And while those who read my blog can't possibly understand, they can still pray. So what I ask is that you pray for some pain relief. Pray for me to have peace of mind. Pray for tomorrow to be better. 

Where I'm from

Where I'm from poetry has become the latest fad in high school class rooms across America. Seeing these poems made me want to attempt to write one. So here goes.

I'm from Kentucky

where the fields are full of cows 

and driving behind tractors is an every day occurrence.

I'm from hospitals 

where medical tests and conditions are both labeled with letters.

I'm from volleyball 

where team work is crucial 

and culottes are the standard dress.

I'm from convention

where your clavicle is covered 

and you abide by the six inch rule.

I'm from Barbie dolls

where you can be who you want to be while wearing 100 pairs of shoes.

I'm from homeschooling

where parents are overprotective, 

social skills are low, 

and self motivation is high.

I'm from heart conditions 

where red is the color proudly worn.

I'm from giraffes 

where being awkward is okay 

and learning to walk just takes a little longer.

I'm from EKU 

where Daniel Boone stands tall 

and everyone knows the power of maroon

I'm from church 

where the youth group are your best friends, 

potluck dinners are a delicacy, 

and vacation bible school is the highlight of your summer.

I'm from kitty cats 

where having 13 kittens at once doesn't make you a crazy cat lady 

and squeezing them too hard results in terrible consequences.

I'm from astronomy

where you know the difference between a constellation and an asterism 

and journal about it with your daddy.

I'm from adventure 

where road trips are often 

and you never know what's coming next.

I'm from zebras

where stripes are invisible, 

but scars are not.

I'm from 4-H 

where Jabez is home 

and everyone bleeds green.

I'm from sisterhood 

where only she understands your parents like you do, 

late night talks are mostly about boys,

and making chocolate milk happens in your mouth.

I'm from a selfless mama 

where late night projects are her specialty 

and driving across the state occurs weekly.

I'm from a sweet daddy

where cats are the funniest thing on earth,

cheering you up when you're crying is done by telling corny jokes, 

and an obscure, new hobby pops up annually.

I'm from a funny brother-in-love

where I have my own personal hitman 

and everyone laughs at biscuits and mustard.

I'm from friendship 

where secrets are shared, 

jokes are made, 

and you always have a shoulder to cry on.

I'm from Jesus 

where sins are forgotten 

and love is unconditional.

I'm from everywhere

where experiences make you who you are

and there is no one you would rather be.

And she had learned...

I have been 20 for one full week now. Each year, I expect to feel an overwhelming difference between the age I once was (five minutes ago) and the age I currently am (my old age plus five minutes). Each year, I am slightly disappointed when I realize that nothing has changed... or so it seems. That's the strange thing about time: day to day nothing seems to change, but when you look back, everythibg is different. So as I reflect on my 19th year of life, three major themes come to mind...

She was stronger thn she ever imagined.

I am a strong person. I know this. I believe this. Now, at least. When you're walking through a trial, you don't realize the strength you need or have to get through it. Once it is over and you reflect to what once was, you realize the incredible battles you faced, the feats you won, and the confidence you gained in the process. Never for a minute would I believe that I did it alone. God gave me the strength and the will to push through whatever I faced. My family and friends provided shoulders to lean on and a hand to hold when I didn't think I could do it alone. I could never do it alone. 

In the past year, I've had many "adventures" as mom and I like to call them. I started my second, third, and fourth semesters of college. I got a job. I made new friends. I joined clubs. I was in the homecoming court. I went to Baltimore, Hershey, and New York. I experienced heart break. I was in a car accident. I had dozens of medical tests. I fell. I got up. I cried. I laughed. I grew. I became strong.

Jesus was closer than she ever realized. 

I wish I would have always known how close Jesus was to me and my situation. I now know that Jesus has his hands in every situation. When I pray, I often use that same wording: that God will place His hands on the person or situation, make His presences known, and send His angels for protection. I believe He hears me and I believe He does. God is here. He listens. He cares. He does. He isn't a God who sits, watching our lives like a movie, but instead, has an active role in orchestrating them. I have found that just as the Bible says, when I seek God with all my heart, I WILL find Him. I just wish I knew He was waiting for me. I'm thankful that no matter what happened, God has always been there with outstretched arm, waiting with a hug for me. 

She was loved more than she ever knew. 

Never have I experienced a larger outpouring of love than this year through the many tests and trials I have exereinced. Every prayer, kind word, and hug means more than I could ever tell you. There is power in the phrase "I'm praying for you." There is love in a (gentle) hug or pat on the arm. There is comfort in the question "How are you...really?" 

I love little acts of kindness and I witnessed SO many this year and especially throughout my birthday celebrations. I am amazed at how many people took time to say/sing happy birthday, give me a hug, give me a gift, or let me know what I mean to them. Life is far too short to not tell people how wonderful they are. While I may not be able to tell every single person right away, I am going to start trying. Because with the amount of love I receive on a daily basis, I never want anyone to doubt how I feel about them. 

19 was a good year. A great year. A fun year. Although trials occured, they always do, I made it. I made it to 20. I am one year further into my crazy life's journey and I couldn't be more thrilled with how this year started. I can't wait to see what adventures are in store throughout the next 51 weeks. 

Why are you so fearful?

This past Sunday at church, my preacher preached a sermon titled, "Why are you so fearful?" The sermon used the story in the Bible when Jesus calmed the storm. In this story, Jesus and his disciples are out at sea, Jesus falls asleep in the boat, and a storm begins raging around them. The disciples woke up Jesus in a panic, asking Him to help. Jesus answered them with a question, "Why are you fearful, oh you of little faith?" 

The disciples were scared. Despite having Jesus, their Lord and savior, I'm the boat with them, they feared they would die. Sometimes as a Christian, I act the same way. I say I trust Jesus, I believe he came save me from any situation, and yet I am never completely without fear. 

Everybody has that one thing they can't quite let go of. No matter how many times we pray about it, asking God to take control and help us, we stil don't let go. We can't surrender to God in word only. 

As I was pondering these thoughts and the sermon, this thought suddenly came to mind and I firmly believe God put it there in His awesome timing: "Stacie, why are you so fearful? Are you afraid the plans that I, The Lord, have made for you are not enough?" Instantly tears filled my eyes and I knew why I act in fear, instead of faith. 

Somehow I can't let go. Somehow I have told myself that my plans are better. I've acres as if God's amazing will is not enough. How could the one who created me not know what's best? 

When I realized this, my tough situation didn't seem so bad. It seemed like part of the plan, a piece of the puzzle, a tiny speck in the scheme of eternity. So that is how I must view it. That is how I must live my life. 

If asked, most Christians would say that they trust God to save their soul and take them to Heaven someday. Most Christians live this. They aren't constantly worrying about whether or not they will be in Heaven, or whether or not God will forgive them of that day's sins. He already has. He already died. He already forgave. He already saved. We know this. 

But when asked about the situation at work, the new relationship, the fight with a friend, the big test coming up... How many Christians live out their faith then? 

Every plan we don't give to God, every fear we hold on to, every portion of our life we don't intrust to our Heavenly Father is a portion of faith we can never experience. 

I trust God to save my soul. I trust God to take me to Heaven. I want to trust God with my today. 

Is God enough? Why are you so fearful? 

If we trust God with our eternity, we have to trust Him with our now.