Coach Willig

I sat in a wooden pew this morning and listened to story after story of a great man. Students, players, friends, colleagues, relatives stood and spoke about his compassion, his humor, his love, his passion, his fortitude, and how he inspired everyone around him.

I remember meeting Coach Willig for the first time when I was in 8th grade. He came to an AAU practice and watched us play as he would be our coach the next year. He shook my hand and introduced himself. I told him my name and mentioned that my goal was to make the varsity team my freshman year and that I had been working hard this past summer to make the team. He said "Keep working hard." He invited me to go to Gonzaga University with the high school teams. On our way, he walked to the back of the bus, handed me a varsity shooting shirt, and said "Here's your shot. Don't blow it."

From that moment on, I was one of Willig's players, one of his kids. He never made me feel second-rate just because I was a freshman or I wasn't a starter. He invested into me the same he invested into everyone else. He taught us to work hard, to laugh, to give it your all, and to pay it forward. He believed in me when a lot of people wouldn't have. He gave me a chance when most wouldn't have. I accomplished my goal of making the varsity team freshman year, but the coolest part about that was it meant I got to have Willig as my coach.

My hearts desire is to be a basketball coach and a teacher. I have had several who have influenced that desire, but Coach Willig was the very first person who instilled that calling into me. I will forever be indebted to him, grateful for the time I was able to know him, and feel honored to have been one of his kids.

Dear Mr. Trump

Dear Mr. Trump,

Congratulations on becoming the 45th president of The United States of America. No matter anyone's view on you as a person, it is a great accomplishment to be the leader of the greatest nation in the world. 

I have traveled to many places outside of this country. I have been to Asia, Africa, Mexico... The more I travel, the more I see how other cultures and governments operate. I have seen children living in extreme poverty, covered in scabs and bites, sleeping in mud huts. I have spoken to 14 year old sex slaves wearing silk dresses and red lipstick standing on the side of the dirt streets waiting for a man to pay. I have held Mexican orphans in my arms, no more than a few months old, and told that they were locked in a their home with their 5 siblings while it was set on fire by their drug dealing parents who didn't want to pay for them anymore; by the grace of God, they survived and now live among other orphans with similar stories. I have seen horrors first hand. I have seen government oppression first hand. I have seen what truly awful leadership looks like, and I truly believe that you, Mr. President-Elect, are not that.

I have heard the things you've said in the past and frankly, it doesn't matter if I agree or disagree, or how I feel about it at all. It doesn't matter who I voted for or what I hoped the outcome would be. The fact of the matter is that you will be the 45th president of this great place, and I intend to respect that. 

I know you see the people in the streets rioting, burning flags, beating people up, shooting others because they thought they voted for you. But I don't blame you for that. 

I know you hear about the students who are standing at their high schools yelling at Hispanics to "pack their bags". But I don't blame you for that either.

I know you see the division, the disfunction, the disunity that has erupted since the election. But I don't blame you.

I blame us. I blame those who believe that this will accomplish something. I blame those who have chosen violence as an appropriate response to their fear. Just as we punish a rapist for the rape, and not someone who condoned the rape, I blame the people who have chosen this response, not anyone who condones it (again, I still don't know what you condone, because I have never met you).

Although you will never read this, I wanted to say that I am praying for you. The Bible says very clearly in Titus 3:1-2 "Remind them to submit to the government and its officers. They should be obedient, always ready to do what is good. They must not slander anyone and must avoid quarreling. Instead, they should be gentle and show true humility to everyone".

It also says, "I urge you, first of all, to pray for all people. Ask God to help them; intercede on their behalf, and give thanks for them. Pray this way for kings and all who are in authority so that we can live peaceful and quiet lives marked by godliness and dignity. This is good and pleases God our Savior,  who wants everyone to be saved and to understand the truth." in 1 Timothy 2:1-4.

And so that is what I will do. I will pray for you, Mr. Trump. I will pray that you lead with wisdom, with compassion, with strength. I will pray for my nation, that there will be peace, unity, love. I will pray that people will not blame you for the bad nor rely on you for the good. 

Once again, congratulations, Mr. Trump. I look forward to the next four years with optimism and hope for my home, the United States of America.

Chuck.

This was my view at a funeral yesterday. Let me be clear, I am not complaining; I am not mad; I am not frustrated. In fact, it was a blessing.

Yesterday, we celebrated the life of Chuck Stadeli. He was the father of one of my dearest, dearest friends from my hometown of Silverton. Last week, at the young age of 64, his life unexpectedly ended. I had just seen Chuck a few weeks ago at the grocery store. He gave me a hug, like he always did, asked me how I was doing and what I was up to. He said he was doing well, I gave him another hug, and left.

I had no idea that would be the last time I would see him.

I always saw him at Oktoberfest, which is coming up in a couple weeks. He was always there with his family, and we would always run into each other, something I looked forward to. It won't be quite the same without Chuck this year.

At his memorial, I had to watch my precious friend speak about her father, who has now gone on. She stood there so strong, and shared memories and her words conveyed so much love. And I realized something... While I stood there for 2 hours in the heat, in a church with no more seats left, and so many people standing, I could barely see, I was immensely blessed. I looked around and saw a man who had touched so many lives, who had helped raise 6 lovely ladies, who had demons and struggles, but had overcome.

I thought to myself, "I wonder if my life would have the same effect, if I would leave the same legacy, if my children would say the same things about me, if a church would be filled.."

It challenged me. Chuck challenged me. I was challenged to live every day like its my last - as cliche as it sounds - because you really never now when it will be. Chuck had no idea that his life was ending that day. And I am not guaranteed tomorrow either. Is what I am doing right now purposeful? Is what I am mad about worth it? Am I helping someone today? Am I creating a legacy?

You are already severely missed, Chuck. The hole that your death created is obvious. But your legacy is large and challenging and respected.

R.I.P.

I Can't See Me

To be honest, my weight loss journey has been at a stand still.

I lost 38 pounds and was doing well.. Then I kind of stopped. I haven't gained any back (thank God), but I haven't lost any more either.

I started trying to process why I stopped, why I even got nervous thinking of losing all 100lbs. Why would someone be nervous about something like that?

I realized over the past few weeks that it was because I have an idea in my head of who I am and if I changed that drastically, I can't even imagine it. I literally cannot picture myself any different than I am right now, just like I can't imagine myself as a 50 year old woman, or a mom... I can't imagine myself 100lbs lighter.

I was making a delivery for my work the other day, and after I rang the doorbell, a kid came to the window, pulled back the blinds and yelled "Mom, there's a fat lady on our porch!" At first, I wasn't upset because I thought, "Well, duh, he means me. I am fat."

But then it made me sad and I realized not only do others see me that way, but I see myself that way. I realized that there is a comfort for me in my weight not changing, in this being who I am because I simply cannot fathom what it would be like to be any different.

As I move forward & lose the 62 pounds I have left, I go with a new mindset. This "fat lady", this weight does not define me and it is not who I am. I have released the need for this to be my comfort blanket. I want to carve out the real me and shed all that's holding me back.

Our Story: Part 4

{This post is a continuation of  a series about my husband's and my story. Read part one here, part two here, and part three here.}

It has been a lot of fun to retell the story of Mr. Dunn and I. It has been a bit since I wrote the last few parts of this story, but this story begins after we have been dating for about 2 weeks. He told me three words that usually don't get so early, but nothing was slow for us. He told me he loved me. I had only loved one person in my life, and Daimian had already come in and helped me heal, and had my heart in love again.

Two weeks later, marriage came up. We told no one, not family or friends, because 4 weeks dating and already talked of marriage sounded absurd. We went ring shopping one time and went on dating, having so much fun together, going to school together, just enjoying the moment.

May 30th, 2010, Daimian picked me up from work. He asked if he could take me to dinner and I said yes, but asked if I could please shower first. He stayed in the car and I went up to take a quick shower and change. I got dressed, went back into the bathroom to fix my make up, and when I came back out, Daimian was sitting at my kitchen table. I asked what in the world he was doing here. A large red gift sat on the table and I walked over as he smiled at me. He told me how he couldn't wait to give me a gift he got me and wanted me to open it. I sat down in the chair and opened the gift. It was a book of pictures of us from being friends to dating. On the back of each picture, he had written a note; some were about the picture itself, some complimenting me, but the last one told me he couldn't live without me and said "Turn Around".

Daimian was on one knee in my dining room, holding up the most gorgeous ring I had ever seen. He said the loveliest words, some of which I missed out of pure shock, and asked me to marry him. Of course I cried and choked out a "Yes" and he slipped the ring on my finger.

We had dated for 2 months and 25 days, but when you know, you know and we simply knew. Still to this day, it is the best decision I have ever made.

Our first picture together as fiances.

The Ring!

{Stay tuned for Part 5 - It won't take nearly as long for me to write it as this one did.}

The Stories He Told

I remember sitting in the chair across from my Grandpa Jack as he sat on the couch and spoke. My husband and I along with my parents, brother, and grandma had just watched Band of Brothers with him. We sat there and hung on to his every word as he talked about having to hide out in the trenches, boot camp, and maneuver around to safety.

Then his eyes started to well up and he spoke about his friends who were killed the day he fought in the Battle of the Bulge.

What you need to know about my 91-year-old grandfather is he is not emotional; he makes corny jokes and doesn't do serious stuff that often. He speaks English and Spanish fluently, and enough French, Russian, and German to get by. He likes to talk about his past stories, but they are usually just the funny ones or the weird ones, but rarely the sad or serious ones. But on this day, after he watched the depiction of an event he lived through so many years ago, it was like I was looking at a different man.

He told us how he had to step over the bodies of people he ate with and went through boot camp with. He saw people die, he saw them get shot, he saw bombs drop. Things that I cannot even fathom trying to imagine or understand, he endured.

I watched my funny, jovial grandfather cry for the first time. But he smiled as he told us that he was grateful he was still alive and got to live a long life. He reminded us that there were many who didn't, many who died fighting for this country, freedom, liberty, and love.

My words seem so inadequate to describe how grateful I am today. I am grateful that my Grandpa Jack lived, but I am also so very grateful to those who died fighting so that I can live in freedom; freedom to love, freedom to worship, freedom to speak, freedom to work, freedom to learn, freedom to choose. My life is what it is today because they fought, and they died.

inconvenient

Everyone I know is pregnant.
Ok not everyone, but almost everyone.
It feels like everyone.

I love it. Pregnant moms are beautiful, babies are cute.. I love it.. For them.

I just have a hard time picturing a baby in my life. I think about the day-to-day stuff I do and its hard to imagine a baby in that. I think about all the time I get to spend with my husband, and think how much a baby would change that. I think about how tight money is and wonder how a baby would fit into that. I think about a baby becoming a child and wonder how to balance school and soccer games and homework and I just can't see it.

I'll be honest, I don't love change (I've written about that before) and I don't love doing things I have never done before because I don't know what to expect or what to plan for. Babies are the epitome of all of that and that's scary.

I scroll through facebook, and moms are complaining about no showers and no time for themselves.. They can't even pee alone, they get no sleep, kids are brats, they can't wait until nap time... I wish I understood in my heart that kids were worth it. I see it some, don't get me wrong. But it feels like they are so much more of an inconvenience more than a joy, an annoyance more than a blessing.

I am just being honest here. I am just sharing whats truly on my heart. I know someday I want to be a mom and I want to make my husband a father, but in this new generation, theres a new outlook on babies, and its scary.