"I have no fears for the future... it is bright with hope."

We never really know how we affect those we meet throughout our lives; the things we say, the things we do. We don't know long our words and actions will remain with them. Are they fleeting moments, which will outlive our physical presence in their lives, or will we be there all along... encouraging and supporting them the whole way? We don't know if what we say or do will bring positivity to their lives, or if our words will someday echo through their minds in a dissonant chord of failure.

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May 2005

With complete disregard for my family at home-- family who had traveled across the country, and family who had come from overseas-- I left. A few days before, I had graduated high school, and as a graduation gift to myself, I was driving an hour and a half away to see some dear friends play at an old theater. I arrived earlier than expected, but it turned out to be a good thing. As I navigated my way into the massive dark room (what appeared to be a ballroom,) I spotted Tank and caught up with him briefly. Behind him was a man I had never seen before messing with some gear. I figured he was with one of the bands touring with them, and paid him no mind. I was, afterall, there to see my friends. We walked around, and asked another man I had never seen before (but who clearly knew him) to take a picture of us together... let me tell you: this guy was quite disgruntled. Either he hated Ohio or he didn't want to take our picture. After some time, the show started up, and I realized the two strangers were, in fact, in one of the other bands. I made a mental note to introduce myself later, but when the routine offer to hit up Waffle House with the guys after the show, was thrown out there... I lost track of people and time. I sat at Waffle House with Tank and the newest member to his band, Ben. On either side of them were members of the other band. I never introduced myself.

The next night, I drove even further (three and a half hours) to see them again. After the show, I was approched by a man with probably the coolest hair I have seen on a man before. He introduced himself to me and said his name was Rob and he'd remembered seeing me the previous night, but didn't get a chance to say hello. We talked for a while, and as other members of the band came up, I was introduced to them. AJ. Matt. Jed, my disgruntled photographer "friend" from the night before.

Never in the course of that evening, did I think "These guys will probably be friends of mine for years to come." I knew they seemed like legitimately great guys, and that for as long as they toured with Last Tuesday, I would see them off and on. I knew that we would, at the very least, be friends on the road. A friendly face at a local show once or twice a year.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

Over the next few years, we saw more and more of each other at shows-- some of which I made trips to Pittsburgh (and once even further.) We kept in touch over the internet, which made it easier to keep up to date on when I'd see them again. One day, I drove out to see them play where I had first actually met them. A few days later, Rob would be seeing Kellie Pickler, with the opportunity to meet her. After I knew he'd had the experience, I asked him how it was. He replied with a beautiful message about encouragement. It was truly inspiring, but one phrase in particular stood out: "there is hope."

I was at a time in my life where things weren't completely stable. I spent more time away from home than I did at home, and things seemed pretty hopeless for me. His lesson for Kellie touched my life as well... and I held onto the lesson for years to come.

 

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December 3rd, 2011

Hello, dear friend. I hope you are doing well! It has been a while since we actually talked, but I think about you often. Every time one of your songs plays on my ipod...

Lately, life has gotten the better of me in almost every aspect. I have been in a sort of depression for a few months now: I relocated to an area where I have very few friends, work in a place I am not valued or well received, and have virtually no social life-- I don't even have the internet yet. I won't get into the ugly details, because they don't really matter.

Recently, I learned that the county I live in is hiring 4 part time 911 dispatchers, and I am going through the application/testing/selection process. I am at a point in my career devoted to "helping people" where I am tired of serving the hotel crowd who constantly THINK they "need," and I want to help those who legitimately NEED. Yesterday, I stopped in at dispatch and met with the director for a mini interview and tour, and left there with a certain confidence that this is a step in the right direction for me. On my drive into my current job, I felt this unbridled freedom. I suddenly thought of a lesson I once learned from you, and needed to bring back into my daily life: there is hope.

I remember after what was probably one of the last times I saw you, you had seen Kellie Pickler, and I had written you to see how it went. You wrote me this beautifully inspiring message about hope... and I took it to heart.

I guess it's hard sometimes to remember that there is hope... but I thank you for teaching me that, and I thank God for reminding me.

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On New Year's Eve of last year, I got a response. The message brought me to tears. It was encouraging and uplifting. Full of love from a friend, telling me that I am not alone and things can and will get better. Reminding me that I am valued, and that I was one of the true friends he and the guys made while on the road. I was reminded that I didn't need people geographically close to me to be happy.

What came next gave me more hope than I had been given by remembering his lesson.

"I wanted to write to you on this the eve of next year... because in just a few short hours... this year is over... and a new beginning is born. I believe this is going to be an incredible year for you... and I can't wait to see what will happen next... Happy New Year!

Stay amazing."
 

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I was sitting on one end of the couch in the apartment I shared with my boyfriend. I was about three glasses into a bottle of champagne, and my brother was on the other end of the couch. I invited him up to play video games because he had nothing else to do.

I cried. I was overwhelmed with emotion, but in the best way possible. I knew, without a doubt, that everything Rob had said was right.

There is hope.

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I have to admit. Rob was pretty accurate: 2012 did bring me all sorts of great things. In February, I got the job at the 911 center. In April, I left my boyfriend of almost 4 years and moved back in with my mother. Even though that doesn't sound like a good thing, I assure you it was a blessing in disguise. A full time job opening came up closer to home, doing the same thing I was already doing and I was hired. I reunited with old friends. Made incredible new ones. Took a trip with one of my best friends out to Pittsburgh to see Rob, AJ, and Jed. We caught up. I was reminded that these people are all in my life for a reason, and I am a truly blessed girl. I moved out into my own place.

And now, a year from the message... I am recapping my year. I did pretty well for myself. Full time employment was a pretty good start... but with my new-found freedom came a sense of who I am, alone. I had lost sight of that in my relationship, and was really able to focus on myself, what I love, and what makes me happy. I was able to go after those things that make me happy, and really BE for the first time in 4 years.

2012 was an excellent year for me.

I am really looking forward to 2013 and all it will bring me. I can't wait to see the places I want to see, and visit the people I want to visit. I am looking forward to continually being blessed with amazing people in my life... and I wish the same for you.

My one resolution this year is to always try to make a positive impact on the lives of those I come in contact with. Maybe it will be for a long time, and maybe it will only be for a short while... but happiness is happiness, and everyone deserves it.

To those of you who have been there with me through everything, you mean the world to me. Some of you, more than you will ever know. Thank you for all you do... you're my inspiration.

I love you.

oh, but honey, I'm alive.

I sat there in the doctor's office at the clinic. The walls a worn yellow color; a few water spots on the ceiling tiles. I couldn't begin to even count the number of times I had visited this clinic over the past two years; the number of hours spent waiting on one specialist or another to see me. I shifted in my chair. My appointment was already a half hour behind, as I could hear this particular doctor chatting in the hallway outside of my door. I was ready to get the appointment over with, and get on with my day.

She came in, and we discussed some concerns-- both old and new. With the new concerns came new information: information I wasn't ready for, or expecting. Earlier this year, I was diagnosed with a rare clotting disorder, called Delta Granule Storage Pool Deficiency. Nothing that would change my life drastically, but something that would prove to be inconvenient later in life. I thought I had thought about everything I needed to think about... until this appointment. All the disorder means is that my blood clots, but not as fast as it should; minor cuts and scrapes look worse than they are. However, it could become an issue if I were in a major car accident and couldn't get help right away. I already knew that if, and when, I decided to have children it could potentially become a problem... but I never knew that it would be as big of a deal as I was about to find out.

"I know we have already had the conversation about how when you have children, you'll have to plan in advance due to other medical issues... but with this new complication, there's cause for greater concern. You are going to have to do extra planning: see an OB/GYN who specializes in high-risk pregnancies, and deliver in a hospital that has a NICU, just in case. I know we're talking a while down the road yet, but..."

I tuned out. I felt like my world was being turned upside down for the umpteenth time this year. There I was: sitting across from yet another medical professional telling me how my future is going to be... when I was a 25 year old, fresh out of a failed four-year relationship. Why was it bothering me that my future suddenly seemed so incredibly complicated?

Now would probably be a good time to rewind my story and tell you that two and a half years ago, I had a seizure that landed me a private room in an ICU overnight... where I was diagnosed with epilepsy. My boyfriend (at the time) was very supportive at the beginning, even though I could tell it freaked him out. We had been together for about two years at that point, and (I thought) we were planning on a future together... but somewhere between then and earlier this year, things got mixed up; things got lost.

So I left my (former) boyfriend, and moved back into my mother's house with the knowledge that when I finally found a man who deserved me-- a man who would help me out-- a man who would be there for me, even in my darkest times-- and decide he wants to be that man for the rest of our lives... we would have to plan. You see, before I even become pregnant, I have to be weaned off of my seizure medications or risk harm to the child. Being taken off of my medications also means bedrest for my pregnancy, or risk falling and losing the child. This is a HUGE responsibility, and (once) in my eyes, burden to that man. This is why I need someone so special.

And there I was... being told by another doctor, once again, that I have to do extra planning if I want to have children. After my brain's mini-vacation, I tuned in just in time to hear her change topics. I spent the rest of my day, and part of the following few weeks in somewhat of a trance. I felt like I had lost a child I never even had... a child who wasn't even a thought for me yet.

And then came the overwhelming urge to date: I suddenly wanted to find a good man who would take me on an autumn date, treat me right, and fall in love. WHY did I want that? I still can't figure that out-- my trust (and will) were broken in the breakup, and a part of me still has a hard time believing that somewhere out there is a man who deserves me; a man who will treat me the way I deserve to be treated. Somewhere out there is a man for me.

I realized it was nothing more than a silly notion; now is the time to celebrate me. For four years, I was in a relationship that squandered the things I loved; sequestered who I was... who I am. Now is the time to chase after those things I love and be who I am. Now is the time to love myself, "complications" included... so that I can eventually allow someone else to love me too.

Now is the time to live.