inspiration

Three things that my heart celebrates the most, Faith, love and words. Put them together and you get something magical.

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We live in the realm of the notification from an object. We have fallen in love with a screen. We are prisoners to a device 1% of our size and immeasurable amounts less than our personal worth. Striving for the acceptance and approval of a fellow device rather than a being.
We converse with mere ghosts of people. Seeking acceptance from strangers we'll never meet and exchanging words that we'd embarrassed to display face to face. Words written that your grandmother would be ashamed of.
Seeking gratification from a buzz.
The light that illuminates our rooms late at night is that of a touch, swiped left or right, not from the eyes of another. Their words lacking luster as they are displayed rather than spoken and take a stab at who we are and lack any form of respect.
The essence of the presence of a soul is lost in the lack of our ability to see the necessity. We are soul searching in a soulless place.
We have shifted our source of appreciation and acceptance. We are no longer looking to fellow beings, but to electricity.
We are feeding ourselves with a source of no nourishment. All of it will never be enough.
We seek so much recognition from data uploaded to an unreachable place that we forget the beauty around us.
As you submit what you consider beauty to an uninhabited audience, you are putting yourself into a box. Defining yourself by a 2*2 inch square and 114 characters.
I will not let myself be defined by those minuscule dimensions. I believe my beauty is far more grand than a square of that size. I have far more important thoughts than to be limited by characters.
Last time I checked, the world was larger.
Why not live there. Experience there.
Live in the totality of your being, not a snip-it of it.
Do not be scared to experience something bigger than a 4 inch squared footage.

Big

By no stretch of the imagination do I take on the mothering role for this girl.

In fact, it is the other way around.

Two years ago she became my big.

Every day since, she has proven to be one of the best.

She took it upon herself to dedicate the task of teaching what she knows to me.

For some, that stops at their sorority doors.

For me, it carries into the strongest values in life.

The parts people don't ordinarily talk about.

Thanks for teaching me:

How to have an unending desire for my passions.

Every day she walks around with a fire inside her soul. She fuels the sparks with two blades and some ice. She shares her love for the ice with teams of girls, and supports them to the ends of the earth. Her eyes shine when she talks about everything pertaining to skating. She watches it, she feels it, she lives it. Her heart belongs where it spins on the ice. 

How to inspire others

She's out that door at the crack of dawn. Some days she doesn't come home until after bar close. She is contributing to her career, but when no one is looking, she finds the time she doesn't have and dedicates it to her passions. Everyday, she will get grief. She takes it in stride. She is determined to do the BEST at what she does. Never does she take the easy way out. Every day, inspiring me to do my best at it all, and pushing myself along the way.

How to dream big

She doesn't take anything lightly, and does it all to the best of her ability. She has a huge position. She is in charge of keeping us all in line.  She is the woman who wants us to succeed and loves us all enough to tell us when to shape up. And weekly, like clockwork, people she calls sisters give her smack for looking out for them. They put her on blast for "not being there", for being "negative", for being "crabby". Little do they know how much she supports them all, how she talks so highly about our organization, and how hard she is dreaming. She is giving it her all to her major, caring about her athletes 'til her heart is full. When her plate looks too heavy to carry, she adds even bigger dreams: those of trying out for something huge, putting herself out there, dreaming to skate nationally (dare I say internationally). I stand here and cheer her on, but little does she know how big she is teaching me to dream. That I can truly do anything I set my mind to.

How to be myself

Some people may say that she wakes up on the wrong side of the bed daily. I say that she obtains one of the best personalities you can: the who gives a f*%# attitude. She tells you how it is, the good, the bad, the ugly. She is NEVER afraid to speak her mind. At all times, you'll know what she is thinking, and it is beautifully raw. She lives with her chin up, containing more confidence than imaginable. When people dare take stabs at who she is, it rolls off her back, and unnerved she carries on. Thanks for providing an example of what it means to be a strong woman, loving myself, as you love me.

There is so much more she teaches me, some of which I probably haven't even realized yet, and most definitely more than I can put into words. I could have never asked for a better big. You're a wonderful human Dana. Thanks is never enough.

one half

She wasn't my mom but she helped raise me.

She has forever been one of the people that inspires me most.
She was the model of the person I wanted to be as a child.

She was the idea of high school, and all the fancy dresses.
She was the treasured thought of college, and what it would be like when I was old enough to go.

I didn't want to be a princess.
I wanted to be her.

Her chapters of life have always been my favorite to read.

She was skilled at lemonade stands.
She knew all my Barbie's names.
She was the best soccer coach.
She was a homecoming queen.
She was the prettiest girl at prom.
She was the scholarship winner.
She was the collage graduate.
She was the most stunning bride.

And now she starts one of the biggest chapters of her life,
She will be the most wonderful mom.

She carries more life inside now, than she ever has before.
This world is about to blessed with another part of her.
This world will know more of her kindness.
This little one will have all the splendor life has to offer.


She helped raise me.
But this time,
She'll be the very best, mom.

'til once again

I'll grow old with the scent of campfire, tattooed within my skin,
with paths and trails mapped upon my feet,
and a love for Jesus deep within.

I'll turn gray with rays of sunshine weaved within my hair,
with reflected water in my eyes,
and recall the anticipated breakfasts when inhaling morning air.

I'll grow hard of hearing, letting my ears remind themselves of guitars at dusk,
with stars grasped in outstretched hands,
and a summer family full of trust.

My hear will beat with those I'm connected to,
from summers I spent there,
'til once again he calls us home, and makes us all brand new.

Gram

Gram,
You were one fourth of the people who raised me. You taught me please and thank you. You taught me appreciation and guilt. And, you taught me that a good apology goes a long way. Looking back, I think I (and the other two musketeers) owe you quite a few of those.

Sorry for the excessive amounts of laundry detergent used on washing doll clothes in the sink. Furthermore, even more apologies for the mess we made on the floor, Lord knows that suds were tracked throughout the house. All I can say is we must have been fascinated by the swirling colors of blended baby clothes. (Thanks for being the one to hang them up, and take them off the line when our attention span lasted a mere ten minutes.)

Sorry for the quick evacuations after pooping in the tub.

Sorry for using you salad tongs in the toilet, after I peed, wiped, and lost my choker ring in the bowl of pee. Even more sorry for putting them back without washing them. I will say that I rinsed them off. I was seven. I didn't know better.

Sorry for making potions in the sink with all the spices in the rack. I'm in college now and would do anything for someone to buy me the hoards of spices you had.

Sorry for helping hang up the wash on line and dropping it in the gravel.

Sorry for tracing through the garden and squashing the veggies.

Sorry for begging.

Sorry for egg dye that I'm sure you're still trying to get out of something or the other.

Sorry for drawing on wall in the back room. Even if it was just that one small green line. I needed to know what it felt like.

Sorry for making your living room look like holiday elf regurgitation, with the overuse and clumped window clings. We were short. ALL of them were placed within the bottom two feet of the windows. I cringe when I think of how that must have looked.

Sorry for climbing all over your furniture.

Sorry for jumping on the bed, no matter how many times you said no, and for breaking the bed frame more than once.

Sorry for forcing you to read to us for hours at a time, and do puzzles we had done more than 100 times prior.

Sorry for throwing animals down the laundry chute.

Sorry for messing up your embroidery.

Sorry for the money you will never get back due to the mass amounts of toys purchased at the second hand store.

Sorry for eating half the raw pancake batter out of the Tupperware bowl. Every time.

Sorry for watching the same movie. Every day. For the whole summer. I know what that's like from the adult standpoint these days. It is absolutely dreadful.

Sorry for sitting in the gutter during torrential downpours and tracking mud through the house.

Sorry for the unending stream of happy-meals.

Sorry for the screaming.

Sorry for being literal tornadoes.

I'm quite sure this list doesn't cover it all.
But, in the same respects, a huge thanks is due as well. And as previously stated, I'm positive that words could never show appreciation enough for what you did for me, and what you continue to do.

Thank you for instilling a sense of guilt in me when it was needed.

Thanks for letting me sit on the kitchen counter and sift all the flour. I loved that. (Sorry I got it all over the floor).

Thank you for setting the stage with your piano skills for all living room performances.

Thanks for teaching me how to thrift, how to shop, and how to know a bargain when I see one.

Thanks for showing me that it's okay to leave out some things when talking to the men in life. They don't need to know it all.

Thanks for watching our puppet shows. I'm quite sure they would have put me to sleep.

Thanks for showing us what a real meal looks like...you shouldn't be able to see the tabletop.

Thanks for the unending supply of snacks. Even bigger thanks for the fact that you placed them in the kid friendly section of the kitchen: the bottom drawer. Growing our independence and sweet tooth simultaneously,

Thanks for the solid breakfast skills. And thanks for instilling in me what a good 'cheat' day is, by sometimes allowing our morning meal to consist of chocolate cake, a Pepsi, and a side of sprinkles.

Thanks for the energy. Every day. Despite how tired you probably were. We never knew it.

Thanks for listening with undivided attention.

Thanks for pushing me on the tire swing.

Thanks for trusting me to water your flower beds.

Thanks for the stories, and knowing when we were old enough to hear the real life ones.

Thanks for teaching me how to be nosy without being discovered.

Thanks for showing me what a good humor is, and how to let stuff roll off my back.

Thanks for teaching me how to use my mouth in more ways than one: to thank, to apologize, to gossip, to sass, and to talk smack.

Thanks for teaching me how to drink a beer from a young age, you may have not know I was watching, but I was.

Thanks for showing me how to truly dance at a wedding. No holding back.

Thanks for the years of letters.

Thanks for teaching me your charm and whit.

Thanks for providing the most sincere laughs.

Thanks for showing me how to be strong.

Thanks for loving with a whole heart.

Thanks for supporting me.

Thanks for an example of how to live.

Thanks for sharing your heart with me.

And thanks for becoming my best friend.

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.