DNA

The very first memory I have of my life revolves around him. In shorts, my thighs stuck to our cherry red counter top. Eating a popsicle that trickled down my chin as I swung my legs back and forth. Standing 5 feet away my dad wore a charcoal gray shirt. To this day I can close my eyes and remember that question like it was yesterday. Straight from his mouth, I was asked, "what do you think, boy or girl?" I don't remember finding out I would have a sibling, but that question is forever stuck to the center of the cork board in my brain. With my childhood mind filled with princesses and barbies, the choice was easy. When the humans I knew as mom and dad pointed out that eventually she would steal everything that belonged to me, I changed my mind and fate itself.  I didn't know what I was getting into with my final decision. Toys taken were such a small token compared to growing up with the tornado of a brother.

I remember dad making me a ghost out of a kitchen towel when mom was gone, as we awaited his arrival. I remember the pink teddy from gram and the overlooked Lion King puzzle. I remember him coming home. My parents should have been given a bubble and punch card for injuries when they left the hospital.

We should have known what was coming the day he stated climbing the sides of his crib prior to turning one. We should have guessed his ruthless behavior when he found sheer joy in 'breaking' necklaces with grandpa in the basement as a baby, laughing uncontrollably, giving those YouTube 'laughing babies' a run for their money. The signs were there.

He was always far more concerned with destruction and adrenaline as a child. Those training wheels were off by age three and back flips were being accomplished by early elementary. Jumping off the top of the swing set instilled a sense of fear in the eyes of my mother. I think that was the day she knew he was an untamed spirit. Completely free.


I took on my role as a sister seriously. I helped feed him as a baby I helped teach him how to pick strawberries, only to have him squish one in the back of my shorts as I turned around. He dumped sand in my hair whenever he got the chance. Playdough was mushed into the face of every barbie I owned when I tried to show him how awesome they were. He climbed in my dollhouse. He ruined my board games. He crumpled my blanket forts. He 'colored' my favorite pages in my color books. He flung water at me when I tried to take 'awesome' adolescent pictures at our camper. And when all else failed, he pooped in the tub.  He knew where my buttons were and could push them from ten feet away.

I remember the growth of the biting child, and unfortunately still have the scar on my knee from that phase of life.

I remember towers of cardboard blocks that were taller than him alone, only to be knocked down, destroying my playschool family simultaneously.

I remember the endless sound effects.

I remember yelling at strangers through the vent in the attic and how he turned that a little more serious by shooting airsoft-guns at cars driving past.

I remember the neighbor's broken windows.

I remember the friends locked on our roof.

I remember searching for him in stores.

I remember his love for Star Wars...which was solidified by watching Episode One on repeat for hours after church and talking with Ben til he fell asleep.

I remember him standing in his underwear next to a naked tree laughing and asking for a picture.

I remember him jousting in his knight helmet in the basement.

I remember him in his bed tent.

I remember his outrageous getups.

I remember him scaling mud hills and tracking the evidence around with him for the rest of the day.

I remember the constant mess of a boy running around like a cray person. He was always sticky, and always loud. Always in his underwear. Always.

I remember hours of home videos.

I remember all his sports. Every weekend, every summer, every day. Baseball, basketball, soccer, football, hockey. You name it, he did it.

I remember years of weekends in freezing, dusty rinks.

I remember days ruined due to his injuries. Knees, ligaments, bones. We could connect the dots with his scars. Our deductible was met yearly.

He was the only kid who yearly forgot his birthday, had no idea that Christmas was coming up regardless of the decorations regurgitated upon everything, and couldn't care less about any Holiday in between

I made him walk to school when he couldn't get himself together in the morning fast enough. I remember the fights and the screaming...and then he got stronger than me.

He started to mature and interests grew deeper. His love for adrenaline and humans increased. His friends increased in multiples. He proved he could sing. He enjoyed pucks being shot at his face. His creativity shone in everything he did. He gained an interest in jumping from wake to wake in summer and over gaps of snow in the winter. He mastered tricks on things with wheels on land and behind a boat in the water.

He was always the more funny one, the one who was more athletic, he was creative, he knew how to make people laugh, and he could entertain everyone around him. He wound everyone around his finger effortlessly. He was good at whatever he tried and everything he touched turn to gold. He knew what was cool and how to draw people in, he became popular. When he had the chance to let his status and abilities get to his head, he did something nearly impossible. He shared the joy with others. He made people feel important. He made good choices around those who didn't. He became a great person, I tried to make myself believe we were even, but reality is that he outshines me in nearly every aspect of life. I had to keep reminding myself that we share the same DNA...part of that was in me too.

And then one day I got over it. Jealousy turned to pride.


He has an unbreakable spirit. He radiates inspiration so strongly that people around him can feel it pulsing through their bodies. He is one of the few left with fun and an natural high running through their veins. His laughter could be bottled and sold. His perseverance in everything he sets out to do is unwavering, never stopping to flinch for someone who doesn't believe in him. He is a human blow horn for the excitement of life. He is wild, he is crazy, he is unique, and he is strong. He cares unconditionally and loves deeply. He has endless amounts of insight and wisdom. And daily, he goes about his day like he is the most plain person, as people stand in awe.

He has the sense to strive for greatness and understands the lack of competition from the top...as most people are simply striving to be mediocre. He however has always maintained the most humble qualities. Instead of thriving and basking in his own accomplishments, he stands from the top, pulling others up next to him despite their lack.

I am beyond proud of the person he has become. Somehow he still decides to claim me as his sister regardless of how embarrassing and under-qualified I may be as a sibling. He shines brighter than anyone I know and inspires my life daily. He will go further than anyone can imagine.

Some days he still makes me feel small. When I feel mediocre standing next to him, I always know he will reach a hand down and pull me up, sharing his accomplishments and letting me enjoy the view.

Stephen, I could never thank God enough for giving me a brother like you. You will go further in life than anyone can ever imagine, and won't stop for those who don't think you can. You inspire me to be a better person and add endless amounts of happiness to my life. Thanks for all you've done and the joy you'll continue to provide. Continue to take those obstacles in your way as the smallest hurdles you've ever seen, only learning from them to run the race of life a little faster. Forever growing. Happy Graduation. I love you.

to live as i want

I want to wear ripped jeans, let my messy hair give company to my shoulder blades and hang a shirt of lace that freely flows in the wind from where it lies; eating ice cream from a cone and dancing in the sunshine, catching rays of light between my fingers and taking candid shots.

I want to create the smell of sea salt and wear it as a checkered blanket, sitting in the millions of grains of sand smaller than sight alone yet together becoming bigger than any one whole. Digging my naked feet into their darkness while staring into the blinding light of a bonfire constructed from wood drifted in from the sea. Capturing sights of sparks between blinks as they dance as fireflies.

I want my toes to know every inch of the hardwood floor personally as they dance without purpose over its surface and bring comfort to its forever presence. Letting the socks go amiss and lie in a pile lacking purpose keeping the dust company.

I want to fill my senses with warmth. To encompass all aspects of the morning mist that creeps in open windows and falls upon my toes as I sip morning tea. To breathe in the day and understand its promise. To know the wooden chair at my table so personally that I can envision it as a tree.

I want to live so violently enthusiastic that others think I'm smuggling fireworks inside. To be bold, to share joy, and love completely.

You are my sunshine.

Normally moments spent together are too precious to stall and take a picture. Hence explains the lack of those of me and my mother. Words have always proved however to emit emotion on a deeper level than the presence of a snapshot. There is not enough film to capture the moments of life in a photo. Memories and feelings aren't printed, copied, or hung on the wall. They can only be transferred from one individual to another in the act of words which will forever be diluted by the presence of time. I can try...

She carried me for nine months. Holding me close and loving me before she knew me. Others can know you for a lifetime and just then decide to love you, moms know from moment one. I came from love, to be loved, to give love. In the still moments of the morning, making her violently sick from within, she still was unmoved with love. Wrecking havoc from the inside out she loved me still.

From day one she spent mornings singing. Reminding me that I am as the sunshine, filling her life with joy. She sought out my possible passions and while being steered by her guidance, she listened for the heartbeat of desire, let me decide and then cheered me on with all she had within. Her love transferred from all the interest she had in life to anything I grew keen on. Shifting her only desire to be that of the smile on my face.

She was patient as I went through the unavoidable teen years . Sitting silently and listening, willing up advice, and waiting til they were done. Avoiding touchy subjects and treading lightly. Loving me still, as no one should have been expected to do.

All my life, she did far more than just providing what a mom is expected to. She taught me about all the things life has to offer and comforted me daily. She read to me til she could read no more. She built and invested in some of my most treasured friendships. She left me in the care of those who shared in loving me and continue to do so to this day. She introduced me to all that I have grown passionate about, and pushed me forward unnerved. She showed me the joy of  adventures in the sun, the wonder of the winter snow, how a heart loves to fall into piles of fall leaves and how fun it is to jump in puddles when the rain ruins your days.

She was the best person I could have asked to love me. She shows me what it means to care deeply and live freely. She sets my sights on positive views of life.

My mom has the spirit of summer. She holds the warmth of a mug containing morning coffee. She is the sweetness of whistling in the dark. Her desire for adventure, while wavering, will always have a place in her heart. She has an eye for beauty and knows that sometimes it is felt rather than seen. She loves openly and freely; giving all that she has in life. I am blessed to take refuge within her heart.

She is a daily reminder of why I'm here. And still she sings to me, lullabies of memories, as we collect new ones in the basket of life together. She blessed me with the gift of a lifetime of days, and yet she continues to make those days better than destiny promised and more than I could ever deserve. She has my back continually. Her only fault being that she will forever love me more than she loves herself. She is the most humble, selfless, generous and grateful person on earth, She believes all I touch is gold even though that couldn't be less true. She accepts my faults, celebrates my accomplishments, and whatever they may be, she lassos all my dreams so as to pull them just close enough for me to reach personally. If I dare fall while reaching higher, she will catch me, wipe my tears, wait til I'm ready, and then finds a ladder supporting me with full encouragement as I grasp yet higher.

She taught me how to appreciate life, and became my best friend along the way. While I can forever thank you for all you did for me, all you still do, and all that I know is yet to come; thanks is a word far too small. I am blessed to have you not only in my life, but to be able to call you mom. It is an honor to be your daughter.

lessons

Teach me to let go,
to practice flying without wings,
to be as the morning sun,
rising full of purpose and setting out unasked.

Teach me to embrace brokenness,
fix me so the light continues to shine through,
mistakes known but forgiven.

Teach me to acknowledge the beauty,
in a frosty morning cold enough to thaw the skin,
when the air is thin enough to see your aspirations exhaled in your own breath.

Teach me to wade through the stress as thick as a swamp,
to not noticed the creatures biting my ankles to slow me down,
and keep me up when the weeds pull me down.

Help me understand why people come in to my life,
those that make me deeply engaged,
and come to see why they changed me and left.

Teach me to move on,
when I am emotionally, physically and mentally,
missing my sense of self.
To wipe the slate like a chalkboard,
and to wash away any left over dust.

Still Waters

Let warm summers meet a dollop of love and life completely stops.

Let dreaming warm the heart and admirers eyes gently love the first impression.

Let the unstoppable magic of summer make music and teenagers understand the special whirlwind of love in an instant.

Let the end in sight see more tomorrows.

bring me back

Bring me back.

To summer.
To nights under stars.
To host families.
To adventures.
To campers.
To meaningful conversations.
To a list of numbers you don't know.
the date.
the time.
the zip code.
Bring me back to the cafeteria.
The madness.
The cleaning.
The tubs.
The dinner bell.
To the walk-in fridge.
To the milk cooler.
daily chocolate milk.
The outside voices, inside.
The games.
Bring me back to summer sickness.
To where a day in quarantine felt like an eternity.
Bring me back to the campfires.
The daily devotions.
The perfect fires.
The songs.
even if you couldn't sing.
The guitar.
The endless fire smell.
never leaving smell, forever on all your clothes.
The lake at BZ.
Bring me back to the woods.
To spirit sticks.
To hikes.
To arrows.
To my favorite trees.
To the point and back again.
To the forts.
Bring me back to mermaids.
not so much leaches.
Bring me back to the meetings.
To hearing about habitat money raised.
To bucket of love.
To a freezer of waiting freezies.
Bring me back to the pool.
The guarding tubes.
The diving board.
The pool parties.
The night swims.
Bring me back to upper Beta.
The jams.
mostly Tigger's beautiful guitar solos.
The food.
The packages.
especially those sent to Jear-Bear and videoed by Carl.
(go Carl)
The letters.
The phone calls.
The daily hour of conversation.
The ol' couch cushions.
The possibilities.
Take me back to the ropes.
To challenging yourself.
and others.
Bring me back to the lake.
Guarding on the jet ski.
To Kayaks.
To a view of sailboats.
Bring me back the weekends.
To church.
To Jane and Aaron's.
To the MOA.
To the possibilities of a free camp.
To Gommar visits.
To nights in the GaGa pit.
Bring me back to the cabins.
To the hearts of campers.
especially the DD ones.
To chatting in Gamma.
To where your best friends live ten feet from your front door.
To the ability to move once a week.
sometimes twice.
To the love shared, morning and night.
Bring me back to camp.
Where the Holy Spirit is heard in the wind.
Where the reminders of Jesus aren't further than the turn of a head.
Where God chose to send you for a summer.

I will take the mosquitoes, the sleepy days, the pool shifts, the hot dog cookouts, the noisy campers, the sunburns. I'll gladly take the nights in the woods, keeping track of my keys, sleeping on the floor in a bed full of sand, the day long canoe trips, the registration, and setting up. Take me back to not enough space, living out of tubs, living out of a suitcase (with broken wheels from pulling it over roots), washing clothes only when you can no longer lift your laundry bag.To only washing your hair once a week. I would gladly sleep one more night in Alpha.  I would take on the organizing endless life jackets, ball shed balls, archery equipment, cleaning beta, weeing the garden, AND wiping down bunks. I'll even take the stinky green lake.

Just bring me back.

from the dream's point of view

Reality.

some days reality is more than what meets the eye.

we strive for the standard view of what college means.

parties.

loud music.

skinny bodies.

plump closets.

good hair.

relationships.

best dressed.

positive vibes galore.

independence.

sunshine.

smiles.

but some days, what we believe is the utter reality is a perception through a skewed kaleidoscope.

un-prepared, toxic necessities.

tears.

burning through debt like an endless cash flow.

hours of mundane tasks.

tired eyes.

tired minds.

stimulation lost.

emptiness accepted.

lack of control.

dirt.

mess.

flat.

We fail to remember our goals, and are forced to settle for flat hair, thrown up in a bun. It situates itself and waits for us to complete our college tasks. Ready to be let down. Ready for the real world. Ready to live. 

BUT, reality is what you make of it.

College isn't about the expected terms. Its parts are larger than its sum. It's more than can ever be placed into written words, or speaking mouths. It is a path to dreams. So here we are, and we are forced to remember.

We remember to be carefree and dream as big as we can. We ARE young. We ARE wild. We ARE free. And we ARE allowed to dream as big as we want. No mouths to preach a no. The limit does not exist. We can dance in the glory of the sun from the view of the horizon. To love, to laugh, to enjoy. And when that happens, up it goes again. Into a bun. Out of our way. Not because of our neglect for it to be tamed, but simply so that our eyes aren't crowded by anything but our dreams.