A Second Chance

I’d like a do-over, a second chance. All of my grandparents have passed away. My maternal grandmother died shortly before I turned three from a heart attack, and her husband died when I was 14, the summer before I started high school, due to liver disease. My paternal grandma died three years ago in August in her sleep, and her husband of 60 years followed shortly after in October the same way. When I say I want a do-over, I mean that I want the chance to appreciate these people. I was not quite old enough to fully understand them or what they each had to offer me when they passed.

I only have one memory of my Grandma Barcheski, the one who passed when I was very young. I can remember digging in her purse for some gum, Juicy Fruit specifically, and taking a piece once I found it. I recall my mother telling me that wasn’t polite to do, and I needed to ask first next time and Grandma just said something along the lines of “Oh, she’s fine. I have plenty to share.” I really wish I could remember more of her, I wish I had time at all to glean wisdom from this woman who raised my mother. I grew up with my Grandpa Barcheski around the most, as the other set of grandparents lived in Missouri. My mom tells me that when she was growing up, he was very stern and he expected a lot. As I knew him, he was pretty laid back. He donated a lot of money and did a lot of volunteer work for the Variety Club of Iowa and he worked for Iowa Realty for a period of time taking pictures of houses for ads. I remember riding around in his car with him reading off addresses so he would know where to go next. He was fiercely protective of me too, I remember that. If I wanted something, big or small, he got it for me or promised it to me. He made sure that I was taken care of. One of the last things he said before he lost his ability to speak completely was about me; wanted me to have his leather jacket because I looked cold. I didn’t appreciate the things my grandpa did for me, I wasn’t old enough to understand that in those moments he was showing his love and teaching me. I wish I had the chance now to ask him about his life, ask him what he knew and what he had seen. He traveled so much and he knew so many people, I can only imagine the knowledge this man held. I wish I had the opportunity to thank him, because I am certain I didn’t do it enough while he was here.

While I saw my Grandpa Barcheski more, I think I was closer to my father’s parents. One week of every summer since I can remember, I would go down to their home in Missouri and hang out with them. They lived just over the state line, about 20 minutes from Unionville and 40 minutes from Kirksville. They lived on a large piece of land that was surrounded by pasture and forest on all sides and their home was a restored and remodeled school house. The home that I grew up in was the home that they had lived in with their four children and numerous foster children. My Grandpa Green dug the basement out by hand of that house, and proceeded to do the same for their Missouri home. Grandma cooked and when she wasn’t cooking she always had a project to work on or cleaning to do. My grandma could be a sharp woman at times, but I knew that she cared and I knew that she loved me immensely. I wish now that I could ask her about her life growing up. About her childhood; about falling in love with my grandpa. I wish that I could thank her for introducing me to the Church and for giving me a significant amount of money to go on my first mission’s trip. This woman was an essential key to my salvation, and I rest despite all of these wishes knowing I will see her in Heaven again one day. While my grandma could be short and quick tempered, I never heard my grandpa so much as raise his voice. He was one of the most gentle and genuine people I have ever known. He had these little phrases that would just make you smile even if you were in a terrible mood: “You sleep like log?” and “You sure are a pretty girl”. I can still hear the inflection in his voice when he would say “In Jesus name, Amen” when he would pray over a meal. Until the day he died, despite the Alzheimer’s and the constant pin-pricking pain in his shoulder, he was sweet and smart and witty. As with my grandma, I wish I could ask him about his life and about the places he saw when he was a soldier. I wish I could ask them all for advice now and then. I wish I could have had that type of relationship with all of my grandparents. I’m sitting here running through the memories and they still sting sometimes; they still are bittersweet. But the truth is that I did have time with each and every one of them, and I have a memory of every one of them, which is more than some can say. No, my grandparents didn’t live to see me be baptized, graduate high school, or start college and they won’t be around to see me get married and have my own children, but they live in my heart- no matter how cheesy that sounds.

I think I can learn a lesson from every single one: Be generous and pour out your heart to everyone you meet. Take care of the people you love with a fierce loyalty. It is better to build and make something from scratch than take the easy way out, because it will always give you a better sense of accomplishment and it will build character. Always remember to smile and be the person everyone can count on for a boost. And above all else, trust and rest in God always.

A Thousand Years

Everyone has heard this song, and if you haven’t, you should. It’s heartbreaking but it’s so beautiful at the same time. “1000 Years” by Christina Perri. Do it. Now. Then come back and read this. Or listen to it as you read. Whatever, just do it! This past weekend, two of my dear friends got married and I bawled like a baby. This was their song and it was absolutely perfect.

Prior to this wedding, I was worried. I was nervous that I would be overtaken by jealousy or anger, because who is not just a little jealous when a friend takes such a huge, important, and beautiful step before you do? Some of these nerves had to do with seeing my ex for only the second time since our break up, but after talking to him the day before the wedding, things felt better. It didn’t take more than 5 minutes of sitting in the pews at church for my selfish feelings to melt away. As the grandparents were brought in to the song “Love Like Crazy” by Lee Brice, I started to tear up. And when the groomsmen walked in to escort the bridesmaids to the front to an instrumental version of “1000 Years”, a few tears slipped out. I can tell you that the moment that Rachel came through those doors to the full-fledged song, I broke down. She was so perfect and so beautiful and I was so incredibly happy for her and for Brandon and the journey they were about to embark on. The ceremony was beautiful, simple, and elegant. The couple wrote their own vows, another moment for tears, and they lit a unity candle together after signing their marriage license. I cannot begin to explain the joy I felt in my heart to see those two share their first kiss as man and wife and know that God had brought together a wonderful pair.

With Brandon being a Star Wars fan, the couple excited the church under a tunnel of lightsabers and to the sound of one of the most commonly recognized themes from the saga, to their surprise however. I have it on good authority that the couple had joked about this being the way they left the ceremony, but it was the wedding party who made it happen. The reception was equally as wonderful and included a full meal, delicious cake, and some great dancing. Brandon’s best man and Rachel’s maid of honor shared some heartwarming toasts and we all enjoyed a very sweet song that Brandon wrote for his new bride. I was sad to see the party come to an end, but I was also so glad that I had been able to enjoy it as much as I did.

Brandon and Rachel- I love you both to no end. I am so proud of you and I absolutely cannot wait to see what God is going to do through your lives. You make each other happy and anyone can see that when they catch one of the glimpses you two share so often. I am blessed to know you and have you in my own life as role models and as friends. Congratulations on your new adventure!

A sample of writing: THEM

This is a piece of writing that I started today. Maybe this will be as far as it goes, or maybe it will grow into something more. I was having a hard time with my emotions, so I finally decided to open up a word document and start typing. As you'll read, it takes a dark turn and it goes somewhere that I wasn't expecting. It felt good to write it out though, and it's actually what gave me the idea for a blog. I'm hoping I've stumbled across a therapeutic technique for myself. 

You know how sometimes you’ll have a thought that triggers a memory that reminds you of something you need to do that makes you think of that thing you did once that makes you have a great idea and then- - - you’re right back at the beginning with a new memory? That’s how my brain works, all of the time. Constantly running, continuously reminding me of things I already know or am trying hard to forget. Sometimes I really wish I had a switch. You know, one of those big comical ones you see in cartoons? The ones with the big flashing red light and the sign that says “BY ALL MEANS, DO NOT FLIP THIS SWITCH”? I wish I had one of those, I wish it were that easy. See, it takes a lot for me to push aside all of the chaos that happens inside of me and put on a half-way normal face with which to face the rest of the world. And all of that crazy, non-stop chatter? Well, when it doesn’t get enough attention from me, it kind of takes on a life of its own. It turns to solid sludge that slows me down and adds 1,000 pounds and it finds nooks and crannies to seep out of. Maybe it’s through my words or my actions and I’ll lash out at someone who deserves nothing but love and respect, or maybe it will make itself known in the form of pessimism and leak its way into my social life so that everyone knows my problems. Sometimes, it even morphs into a more deadly form and threatens to overtake me completely. The sad part is, there’s something that is actually kind of appealing about dark nothingness; something that is so alluring and tempting that I almost take the bite of the apple. I know better though. I know not to trust the Sludge because it’s only made up of lies and doubt, and what kind of peace can deceit really give me? If there is one thing to know, it’s this: the Sludge is the King of lies. Just when you think you may have finally found your way around it, and you’ve beaten back the hurt, it will turn on a dime. It will whisper in your ear and say “Hey now, you’ve got it all wrong. I was just trying to test you, to prepare you for what may come. How could you think that I would ever turn on you?” And you know what? You’ll believe it. You’ll start questioning your own thoughts and your own decisions. You’ll start to wonder if you have ever made the right choice, and you’ll most likely settle on the conclusion that no, you never have. Let me tell you, it’s a short slippery slope once you let the Darkness in. Once you allow that pain and doubt to sink in and take root, it becomes a long, hard, uphill battle to breathe fresh air. The Darkness will settle around your feet, weighing each step, trying to convince you to stop moving at all because each movement is a battle and a struggle after all. That is when the Darkness does its best work, when you give up the fight and become still. It will wind its way up into your heart like the wicked snake that it is and send its venom into the furthest reaches of your body. That is when nothingness seems to be the best option, because who would want to live with the pain of constant poison coursing through your veins? Who would willingly allow that to happen instead of putting it all to a permanent end? That is what the Sludge that rots in your brain wants you to think. That is what the Darkness that hardens your heart begs for. That is how they trick you: they convince you that there is only one escape. They take away the light and make you believe it never existed in the first place.

The beginning...

I was born in December almost 20 years ago and I honestly cannot believe how fast the time has gone. Some days I wish I could be eight years old again, completely oblivious to the hectic world around me. I am old enough to remember where I was when the twin towers were attacked-- in my living room watching Rolie Polie Olie, for those of you who were curious, but I am young enough that I don't remember the scandal that revolved around President Clinton. I learned a lot from my grandparents while they were around and I am continuously learning from my peers and my parents. I hope to capture some of that wisdom here, and some of my life experiences. I graduated from high school in 2012 and I just finished my freshman year at Iowa State University. I am both excited and frightened by what my future holds, but if I have learned anything so far, it's to live in this moment right now and absorb as much of it as I possibly can.

The place that I will bring my children into some day will no doubt consist of less tangible things like books and photo albums, so I hope to let this serve as a type of diary. I want to provide myself and future generations with a glimpse into the past. As our dear Andy Bernard so eloquently put it, "I wish there was a way to know you were in the good ol' days before you actually left them". I'm not sure I've reached those days yet, but I hope that when I look back on this in years to come, I can point to a place in time and say "Yep! There it is! That was a great time".