48 and counting

Today, March 5th, 2008, the woman known as Patrice who I along with my two brothers call Mom is celebrating her 48th birthday. She also has raised/raising 4 stepchildren. “Trice” as my grandmother calls her was born and raised in my hometown of Chillicothe where she operates her own small business and is probably spending her day of celebration at.

My mother means many different things to many different people. When I worked at the local grocery store everyone would ask me “you’re Patrice’s daughter, right? She is such a great lady.” My mother is completely a people’s person and has compassion for everyone that walks through the door.

My mom is working hard at her business while I’m in the closing week of my term at school. I’m not really able to come home today. So she will have to wait to receive her birthday present until this weekend. But I didn’t want this day to past with out doing something. Inspired by the top ten list’s on ESPN classic, I thought I would do the top ten memories of you.

10.facial expression after seeing my knocked out front tooth
9.ten minute indian costume from Kroger bags
8.speaking at Schmidt’s anniversary party
7.your gifts to my refugee family
6.pumpkin seed fight
5.kindergarten homemade lint monster
4.fake sick day to miss tumbling in PE class
3.yellow 80’s polka dot dress and black bead necklace
2.the sound of your “wooowooo” from the crowd at State Tournament
1.laughing on the road trip with Grandma Nita

Unlikely Life Lesson

“Inappropriate, so inappropriate..” words of my mother in the checkout line with a face of disgust expressing her opinion of Cosmopolitan magazine. As young teenager, I was warned of such filth that exists in the world and how it could corrupt my impressionable young mind.

Most Cosmopolitan cover stories are “The Best of the Karma Sutra” or equally outrageous but enticing headlines. After mopping the weight room, I sat down to an issue that I found from 2005; more interesting than the readings of Marx and Weber for social theory class so I cracked it open. This morning, which would surprise my mother, I came upon a very inspiring story.

The one page article tells a story of a 30 year old woman who lost her life on September 11th. Eventually after months passed, Ann’s mother came upon this document called “Top 100” on her daughter’s laptop. The document revealed an incomplete list of goals her daughter had hoped to accomplish. Ann’s list only reached 36: learn about wine, Kilimanjaro, get a graduate degree, volunteer for a charity and so on.

The rest of my shift, I just stared at the article. I’m 21 years old…what do I want to accomplish. My thoughts followed me all the way to the other end of campus to my 10 o’clock class. Along with my notes about Marcuse and Habermas, I started scratching down my own list.

Go to all continents
Be a foster parent
Laugh everyday
Serve in the Peace Corps
Love my body
Be a strong mother
Walk barefoot in puddles w/ my grandkids
Run a marathon
Enjoy summer time walks
Learn proper use of commas
Send cards for no reason
Be a good friend
Start my own business
Visit all 50 states
Attend a Cubs World Series game
Coach my children
Learn to paint
Showcase my photos in an exhibit
Adopt a dog from the pound
Have some secrets
Be a better listener
Learn a choreographed dance
Remember people’s names
Do a standup show
Camp on the beach
Read the bible from cover to cover
Remember not to take myself too seriously
Befriend a complete stranger
Meet a president
Live a life I’m proud of

“What is not started today is never finished tomorrow.”
What do you want to get started on?

How Long...

(excerpts from my journal while in Africa this past summer)
July 10th: I believe that this trip is going to change me. I just pray that my fire isn’t dimmed, that when I get home I’ll be able to fuel it and spread it to others.

July11th: In Kibera, thousands of people get up every morning and don’t know how they are going to get food or money. Yet, they are God loving people who offered us the chance to come in their homes and lives.

July 14th: Seeing a lot of this isn’t the easiest thing in the world but it is meaningful and true.

July 20th: When we prayed for Jackie tears streamed down my face. I believe it is because I don’t see a stranger; I don’t see an African. Just as she finds herself in this situation one of my friends could be in the same position.

July 26th: Today, we went to Nyumbani…I first met a little boy named Nicholas. He was very energetic and lots of smiles. Next, I played with Anne, an adorable little girl; for the most part she just liked being held.

July 30th: We said our tearful goodbyes. How are we just supposed to get back on the plane and go back to our normal lives? Jesus, may you allow me to represent the stories and lives that I got to know, so that people in the states may have a better idea of what our brothers and sisters are going through. Action must be taken NOW…

How long… How long after September 11th do people forget to post their American flags outside their homes? How long before people forget our soldiers are still fighting in Iraq and support your troops signs disappear? How long will the NIU red and black ribbons remain? How long before we go back to our normal lives?

Is it possible for me to heal and move on with a normal life while still keeping this events in my thoughts and prayers?



My soul is the same as my brothers and sisters
We all travel many miles on our journeys
One experiences the struggles and joys of life regardless of wealth or poverty
Looking closely, I see the same red African soil covering our souls
Yet when I return home mine will be washed off and their's will remain
But in the moment this does not matter
We walk hand in hand, black and white, poor and rich
Because loves sees no differences, only the Lord in one another.

Ordinary "Expectations"

‘what separates an ordinary woman from an extraordinary one?
the belief she is ordinary.’

Last week a group of res-lifers (RAs and hall directors), put on a program for first year women. There was an educational aspect but mostly it was a lot of fun activities to enjoy a night of hanging out with friends. One of the stations, a friend of mine took head shots and group photos of the girls. Everyone got a chance to participate in and had a lot of fun.

This year I’ve had the great opportunity to serve 26 first year women as a resident assistant. The job has its ups and downs mostly ups. I knew I would be pushed to grow as a person but I’ve been surprised by just how much. Growing up as a young woman in our society, I don’t go without hearing about women and their struggles with their self image.

This year many new, strong, influential women have come into my life and made a positive counter punch towards all the negative influences out there. At first I thought to myself “oh how do they have everything... they are so perfect…how are they so content and happy” I’ve realized my perceptions of them were wrong. After really getting to know these women I realized no one has it completely together and there is no such thing as perfect. Yet, there is a choice to be happy and appreciate one’s self.

This past winter I came to a turning point and realized that basketball was no longer for me. Quitting in the midst of the season was not easy and made for an emotional transition. A couple days after quitting another student in the dinning hall came over to my table. “So I heard about basketball…so like what do you do now?” That was a question I did not have an answer for.

For the majority of my life, I have strived for Kate Schmidt the 6’2 basketball player who attempted to live up to “expectations” that I believed people held for me. Falling short of those “expectations”, I would allow my self-esteem to fall as well. In a conversation with a friend trying to figure this question out they completely caught me off guard. Most people allowed me to pity myself and were understanding toward my state of uncertainty. However she did not. She challenged me to see it as choice. Either I allow myself to be ruled by expectations or I realize that I am in control. And it was my decision.

As of right now, I still have no definitive answer for the question. But when I come upon it, it will be mine. I will no longer be defined by my belief of ordinary “expectations.”

Do you choose to focus on the flower or the stone?

written 12.10.07

"I can't seem to settle in again to my regular American life. I feel a little bit broken. I feel home sick. Home sick for Africa. And home sick for Jesus. I felt him there in Kibera in a way I haven't before. And something about coming back to my comfortable life makes me feel like I am betraying all the friends I met there..." (from my friend Desiree's blog)

4 months have passed since I've returned from Nairobi. The entire time I was there I found it impossible to remember not to use the water when I was brushing my teeth (even with the threat of irregular bowl movements). Here at home every morning and night, I stop myself. I stare and I'm sickened by the unlimited supply of fresh water at my disposal.

I try to make sense of how God gave me so much...

Judith, Peter, Nicholas, Anne, Martha, Jamie, Kevin, Paul and so many others faces appear in my mind. I witnessed their hardships, their pain. Yet at the same time, I fell in love with their faith, their beauty, their laughter, their simple way of life.
But my most disturbing emotion was... jealousy. How in all of their difficulties, do they have the ability to find joy? And yet that contentment seems to escape me.

They do not curse God because they didn't find a parking space. They do not curse God because of the "taste less" food being served at the dinning hall. They do not curse God because they did not get playing time in a game.

My brothers and sisters are joyful, thankful, grateful people...when I am not. They choose to embrace the beauty and joy of the flower. They overcome the coldness, the hardness of the massive stone. How can that be? Why do I not focus on the beauty?

God will you please allow me to love you like they do. Help me to be more like them. Help the world to be more like them.