Texas meets Missouri.

The wedding is Saturday. 

My grandparents from Texas traveled up here to partake in the activities of this week/weekend, aside from the wedding itself. Now, anyone that has ever interacted with my grandparents knows that it requires a mental preparation to do so. I mean that in the most loving way. If you haven't had the pleasure to meet them, let me provide you some background information.

 1. They're Texans, and they'll make sure you know it. 

Whether it's my granddaddy's cowboy attire, consisting of a flannel, cowboy hat and boots, or my grandmother's remarks about Texas' superiority over Missouri, you won't question the pride in their hometown. "Sorry ma'am, we only serve Mr. Pibb here." "Well, in Texas it is ALWAYS Dr. Pepper." Guess what, grandmother? You're in M-i-s-s-o-u-r-i now! 

2. They love us. 

Shocker, right? You can see the excitement portrayed in their smiles with every opportunity to come visit us. Oh, and since I can remember it was a requirement as their grandkid to refer to them as grandmother and granddaddy, so that's what they've always been to me. They were incredible parents, which shaped my father into who he was. Do they love each other? Well, that's questionable sometimes. But for them, the value of family beats everything else.

3. They bicker.

Boy, oh boy, they argue. We've always joked and said that they are the real version of Frank and Marie from Everybody Loves Raymond. 

No, seriously. I'm convinced someone met them and they inspired the characters from that show. My grandmother's famous line: "Oh shut up, Bob!" You could spend 5 minutes with them and think to yourself, what an unhappy life. Nope, probably just them on a good day. 

And the last thing you really need to know is that they're getting old. 

This is where the laughing stops and the sadness begins. 

My great-grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease towards the end of her life. I remember visiting her in Texas, her not knowing me, or even knowing herself, really. And all I could think was how do you forget? What was it like to forget everything? I never wanted to find out for myself and I'm sure that was racing through her daughter, my grandmother's, mind at the time too. Now, as my grandmother is growing older, so is her mind. Sadly, she is following the tracks of my great-grandmother, her mind trying to indicate how she arrived there. Right now it is only short-term memory loss she struggles with. And with this visit, I clearly see the damage. 

It's a sensitive line to be walking on, trying to find when to mention that you had already answered the question she previously asked, or that she already told you that story. Or whether to mention anything at all. 

Last night I had to make a trip to Bonne Terre to borrow my cousin's dress for the rehearsal dinner. I didn't want to travel alone and I knew she would want to join me. On the way down there, we talked about why I was driving there, the wardrobe possibilities for her rehearsal attire, and so on. I picked up the dress and on the way back home, she asked me where we were going tomorrow (tonight). Our entire conversation on the way there, forgotten. I told her and I guess my face gave away what I was trying to hide. She knew I had told her before. Though our current conversation was destined to be forgotten after a few minutes, I still decided I didn't want to push it under the rug; there's only so much room under there. 

I then asked her questions about it. What it was like, how frustrating it was, if she completely forgets or if it's an "on the tip-of-the-tongue" feeling. She told me and then I realized the value of old memories for her. She's almost at the point of having no recollection of present events. People say don't live in the past, but what choice does she have? Talking to her reminded me of the importance of memories and having the appreciation for them they deserve. It reminds me of one of my favorite verses: "The memory of a righteous man shall be a blessing." Proverbs 10:7 You have no way of knowing which memories she will remember, and which ones she won't. Her mind decides that. 

Her memory fading is a heavy sight to observe. She repeats herself a lot and tells the same stories over and over, but I don't mind. No matter how old she's getting, some stories never do. 

tick tock.

Two sets of hands control our lives. 

With His guiding hands, God chooses to participate in more of the "behind the scenes" directing. He'll let you play the part for a while but will interrupt when needed.   

And then, there are the other two fragile hands controlling our lives. They work for time.  

"Okay, I need to wake up at 7:45 to be eating breakfast by 8, dressed and ready at 8:30, and out the door and backing out of the driveway at 8:45." 

Sound familiar? 

Well, if you're anything like me, it sounds extremely familiar. And it freaks you out. Let me explain.

I'm a planner. I make plans to plan. I plan who I'm going to see in the day to come, what my apartment (which I don't have yet) will look like, my to-do list for the following year, planning a time to buy conditioner when I still have 1/4 of a bottle (CAN I EVER LET IT RUN OUT FOR ONCE?), what to blog about after I pressed "Publish" to the previous one, planning a time to sit down and fill out my planner and making sure it's up-to-date, and so on. 

Planning controls me. And sadly, I allow the weaker hands to possess the most power in my life too often. This flaw is a recent realization of mine. Time is nothing to fear, unless you're living outside of it. And even then, there are exceptions. That most certainly would not have come out of my mouth this afternoon. In fact I was talking to my friend earlier, and I quote, "I'm glad I won't be here this summer because I would drive myself crazy trying to plan every little detail about moving and the apartment. WHY DO I HAVE TO BE SUCH A PLANNER ALL THE TIME?" I then went on to tell her one of my goals this summer was to work on planning less. A plan to minimize planning--HA! I even brought this up to some of my friends, sharing with them this compulsive need to feel on top of it and as a result, planning needed to be cut out of my life. And then, as a typical day in the life of Madi Lee, the powerful hands showed me something neat. 

I visited a church here at home tonight with a few friends of mine attend. I wasn't sure if I would take anything away from it. Please, allow me to enlighten you on the topic of the service: "Even the Lord made a plan with goals" Permission to laugh now, because I sure did. Not only did God have his own plans written down, He wants the one's we set to reach fulfillment. 

The plans of the diligent lead to profit as surely as haste leads to poverty. Proverbs 21:5

May He give you the desire of your heart and make all your plans succeed. Psalm 20:4

A lot of you can probably relate to this foolish habit of thinking you need to have every single detail mapped out before you thumbtack it. The example above represents a typical morning for everyone, I'm sure. But you see, planning is okay. Planning is not a sin, nor a flaw. And I shouldn't be ashamed. 

How much you plan doesn't matter, but it is WHAT you plan for that requires caution. Turns out, it's good, healthy even, for me to set personal goals for my summer. And possibly one of them could be planning less on the things that in retrospect, don't matter all that much. I want my apartment to look as Pinteresty as college-sophmore possible, but it can wait. May I also top off the cake with the irony icing of today? I bought a watch today. I was in a hurry to church so I threw it on with the intentions of setting the time later. Turns out, I bought it broken. So for the entire night and until I was home, I was wearing a watch with no time. Maybe they were having issues with their employer, Time, and the hands wanted a break for a bit. I know I do.  

So, I'm sorry Tom Hanks, but I disagree when you say, "We cannot allow ourselves to commit the crime of turning our backs on time." (Cast Away) 

I hope this helped my fellow planners see a God's view on planning more clearly.

There should always be things you shouldn't plan. Some things you can't, some you shouldn't. I'm now going to eat some Oreos and dunk them in milk. I might have 4, maybe 5, but who knows? Sometimes, you just need to be surprised. 

FOR SALE: my emotions because I don't want them

I have never been much of a mover. 

Now don't get me wrong, as soon as I carried the title of a licensed driver, I was always out-and-about. You name it: driving to work, late trips to Steak-n-Shake with friends, driving back roads, or for the sole purpose of being out of the house, I was anything but still. 

By this point, my college friends are probably questioning this, considering my entire freshman year consisted of mooching off one person for a ride to the next. Like I said, I have never been much of a mover and that includes walking out of my way to my car--HA! 

Anyway, as far as welcoming the "new kid" at school, I could never relate. I've lived in the same house since I was a baby, went to the same church, same school and even kept the same friends mostly. 

Things have changed quite a bit. Moving now seems to be the theme of my life lately.

To keep everyone updated, my house is for sale. This is fairly recent and still an adjustment. I respect my mom's decision but it's only normal for me to feel this way after calling this place my home for so long. On Thursday, I came home from school and stared at the piles upon piles of my crap and questioned how I miraculously fit 5 trash bags of clothes into my square of a dorm room. In exactly two weeks I'll be in Colorado, which I'm still wondering how I'm going to pack my summer on just a plane (without paying an extra fee, that is). So when I laid on my bed on Thursday night, seeming as if my belongings were suffocating me, I had a slight freakout. Unpacking from my dorm+packing for a potential move+packing for the summer+packing for my apartment that I'll move into when right when I come back= OH, that's what a heart attack feels like. Not even Jesus music was soothing me in that moment. Somehow, someway, I survived that night. And it was in that moment when I accepted the fact that my life is now an organized mess. 

On Saturday, we finished moving Austin and Danielle's belongings before they officially move into their apartment as Mr. and Mrs. Lee. Though Austin has been moved out for quite some time, it was an odd transition to think that in two weeks he'll be married, making memories under his own roof with his own family.

As far as my friends, Luke will be departing the country on May 30th to spend the summer in Spain. Kim and Lauren are back from Missouri State, Laura recently moved from her apartment to a house, Elena moved from her house to a new house, I still miss Clarisse enormously and wish I could kidnap her from Brazil, aaaaand as of tonight, I was reunited with Olivia, after she spent the last 9 months in Switzerland. And those are the lives of my friends. We're all moving different ways, yet still in sync. Now I could dedicate an entire blog post bragging on my friends, but I'll save that. I'm now sitting in the exact same spot on the couch (with Olivia at the other end) that I was at when Clarisse visited over Christmas break and I wrote the post, "Home, Bittersweet Home". 

It's times like these when I feel as if college hasn't happened, Olivia never went away, and that my home will always be a place I can come and go as I please. I don't know as if I've figured out what the lesson of this past week has been for me. I've heard it repetitively from adults that this is the stage in your life when everything changes, and rarely anything stays the same. Yet, it's much different living it. 

Because if you didn't intentionally place flour on your face and pose for a picture, were you really a teenager girl?

So, as sit in this exact same spot as I did months ago, pondering the trails of that day and enjoying the missed company of that friend that day, I'm still digesting everything. I'm excited for this summer and I'm proud of my friends for the adventures they are so willingly partaking in. Some would say with experience that change is great and maybe I would have been better off sitting on the other couch tonight.

But ya know, sometimes you really don't feel like moving.