the cycle of feeling.

There's a little over a month until school starts again. Already. Little. Over. A. Month. I really don't understand how the concept of time works; you want more of it when it's withering, and you want it to slow down when it's slipping past. Though most of my summer has consisted of the routine of going to work, doing homework and laying in my bed, some things have happened here and there. I've felt a lot of things. And for those who are interested, I figured I'd share my summer with you in the form of emotions.

Boredom: We'll start here. I have spent more time lying horizontally in these past few months than I think I have in my entire life. When I am on my feet (okay, it's not as rare as I make it seem), I most likely have a green apron tied around my body and a Sharpie in my pocket. Working at a Starbucks on a college campus during the summer hasn't been as dreadful as I imagined it would. It's nice taking bathroom breaks and there not being a line, or whipping out the French press to try the newest dark roast. However, I have done more crossword puzzles than ever before. I still suck at them but hey, I'm getting paid for it. And free coffee, I mean, come on.

Pain: I love irony. I don't always love it when it comes in the form of a fractured foot. At the beginning of the summer, I wanted to let off some steam so I attended a free self-defense class. We did a lot of kicking and I went hard. I am also a very fragile human being so original injury happened by kicking a bag. In the following days I had a lot of pain in my right foot; it hurt to walk and it hurt to stand. Two X-rays and a $50 copay later, I would eventually get the result that my foot was fractured. I hurt myself in a self-defense class. The irony.

One upon a time, I tried to draw. The end.

Adrenaline: I mentioned original injury. So, as a Mizzou student, I am liable to do, or at least attempt, the "Seven Traditions of MU". Some of these include streaking and scaling buildings that could get you expelled (#OneMizzou). One of them, however, just requires guts; kissing the 50-yard line of the football stadium. Some people would say that doing so at the end of a football game counts, but where's the fun in that? Me and some of my friends slipped between the locked gate and kissed that line (sorry mom). Oh the adrenaline! Fast forward to later in the evening after sprinting on my already hurt foot and doing another one of the traditions: riding the tiger. Riding the tiger looks easy but you've gotta have a little air. I jumped on my already hurt foot and that's when it happened. I felt the break and everything. Now the truth is coming out to how I actually injured my foot... (sorry again mom).  

Fear: I mentioned this previously, but there was a timeframe of two days when I thought I lost my wallet. Do you know how terrifying it is to think that someone has access to your bank accounts? Actually, that part wasn't too terrifying; I probably had $30 in my checking account max. Nonetheless, it was still scary.

Okay, I'm terrified of spiders. If you ever want me to cry or get me to stop talking to you for the rest of your life, throw a spider on me. Last week, my roommates were out getting a movie and I was cleaning up the kitchen, and there one was. A little bigger than a quarter. An hour and a half later, it drowned in our kitchen sink. RIP.

When I went on my road trip with Heather, we drove through the night on our way there. During one of my shifts of driving, I drifted off to sleep at the wheel. I opened my eyes to the terrifying sight of me heading towards bushes, or whatever those weird things are on the side of the road in New Mexico. There were no cars around, thank goodness (also, again....sorry mom).

Awestruck: Heather and I traveled to New Mexico and Colorado to visit some of our closest friends. It was incredible. One of my favorite moments of the entire trip was when I went with Heather and Iesha and drove up Trail Ridge for sunset. Trail Ridge is a road up a mountain that takes around 40 minutes to reach the top. The view is wonderful and breathtaking and makes you feel small in the best way. It was a little cloudy that evening and I lightheartedly asked God if He could give us a beautiful sunset at our arrival. He delivered.

Happiness: You know those moments that have the power to shut everyone up because of its beauty. This was something I observed on the 4th of July. Noise, talking, screaming, playing and then boom. Silence, admiration and appreciation for fire in the sky.

Anger: You ever come across someone that is in such a bad mood, they have the potential to ruin your week. Or vice versa. That has happened a lot. You know, I'm just going to leave that one there.

Excitement: Well, I turn 20 next week. One of my best friends in the entire world will be here to visit me here in Columbia this weekend. My online classes are almost finished. The prequel to my favorite book, To Kill A Mockingbird was just released and I can't wait to read it.

Of course there have been moments of sadness, bursts of joy and times of love; the more intimate things in life. They have all been there. Even if the emotions you're feeling aren't always stable, the presence of them always will be. It's a beautiful thing to feel. It reminds you how truly alive you are. We are.

if you feel too much.

This is not solely a sliver of hope but a call for help. Tonight, as I am alone in my bed, my thoughts are closing in on me and I am feeling defeat. Not defeat now, but defeat coming. It is a scary feeling to anticipate such a thing.

I have observed and taken note of many evil things in life. Recently, death, depression, pain, and sadness are themes that are controlling the life of the ones I deeply love and care about. I tossed and I turned and sobbed for help. Help for myself. Help for my dear friends. I am feeling it all.

Again, this is not a granted assurance that everything is okay. But rather, comfort in knowing it's okay I'm feeling this all.

If you feel too much, I have something to say.
I too am wrestling such fear day by day.
If you feel too much, do not run away.
Go towards Him in preparation to pray.
If you feel too much, you have nothing to fear.
Close your eyes and open your ears.
If you feel too much, listen instead.
"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid," He said.
If you feel too much, you are not alone.
Join with others in knowing you aren't your own.
If you feel too much, resist temptation of looking ahead.
Today carries enough worries of its own He said.
If you feel too much, let it not be thoughts of sin.
Rest your head and feel love; evil does not win.

I'm here seeing the hard. I'm here until I see the better.

watch your step.

Hello, yes, I'm still here.

I think the last time I have been blogger present was Christmas break. That makes me incredibly sad because what have I been doing with my life these past 6 months? Well, let me catch you up.

Aside from classes and working, my spring semester was filled with surprises nonetheless. Yes, there were the sappy, obvious life lessons that taught me more about friendship, discipline and myself. I grew in friendships with some, where I took note of the progress that needed to be made in others. I opened at my job that required a lot of early mornings and earlier bedtimes, which taught me discipline. I took mini adventures like seeing my favorite band, Needtobreathe, in concert or getting my nose pierced for my own fulfillment. But sometimes, it's the small things in life that you pass over without blinking that have the potential for the biggest impact.

One Saturday morning in the spring semester, I was walking out of my apartment and down the stairwell, when I noticed a circle of vomit. I know, bear with me. I saw it and was disgusted, and left it, hoping it would be cleaned up by the time I was home later that evening. It wasn't. We live on the third, and highest, floor.  We were almost certain that it was our neighbors down the stairs that created this catastrophe mid party. This meant two things: 1. It could have been a stranger that attended the party, wandered up some stairs, puked and left. 2. Us people on the third floor were the only ones that were going to see it every time we came up and down. Like any other reasonable person, we had no desire to touch or clean up vomit that wasn't ours. EW. Please do not judge us when I say that the vomit was left there, untouched, for almost two weeks. Two. Weeks. It grossed us out for sure, and we so badly wanted it gone, but we didn't want to put in that effort to clean it up. It actually got to the point where out of habit we would made an extra wide turn coming up the steps, just shy of the vomit.

This story does have a happy ending, I promise. Finallllly, we used our college brains and emailed our landlords about this unfortunate event that had occurred and the next day? The carpet was spotless. HAHA not really, I live in a building that actually reads, "Historic Property". But it was cleaned up!

My brother couldn't comprehend how we possibly lived with looking at it that long and not choosing to do something about it two weeks later. I wish I could answer that question myself.

This summer I decided to stay in Columbia. I'm working and taking online classes. Whenever I made this decision awhile back, it seemed more exciting than it is now. Don't get me wrong, I've already made some great Columbia summer memories with some cool people, but man, it's hard not to compare. It's hard to think at this time last year I was with so many incredible people, living out such an extravagent summer. It's hard to know some of your best friends are either back in Colorado, moving home to support raise for staff, traveling to Honduras, in New Mexico for an internship or back at home. When you so badly want them to be here with you. Or you there with them.

Like I said, CoMo summer has already been eventful. Me and the few of my best friends that are here too have kept busy. We've traveled to witness a beautiful wedding ceremony. We've had a picnic at the top of a parking garage at night. We've captured a live bat that was flying around our apartment. We've discovered new, beautiful parts of Columbia through our wandering drives. It hasn't all been a breeze, though.

On Tuesday of this week, I went to go get snowcones with some friends. While we were outside, enjoying our snowcones by the cars, I had set my wallet on the hood of my friend's car. That was the last time I remembered seeing it. Fast-forward to the next day when I go into full panic at the realization of not having a clue where my wallet is. Checked both cars. Not there. Checked the snowcone place. Not there. Called the Columbia Police Department. Not there. I had accepted it was gone and took the next steps. I had the most interesting day going to the bank trying to get a temporary debit card, and then them telling me I needed a photo ID which I did not have. And then going to the DMV office and waiting to get a new license where I then realized I didn't have any money to pay for it. HA. During this entire (PAIN IN THE BUTT) process, I so badly wanted my wallet to show up. I wanted to know where it was. I wanted it to be there right then and never disappear again.

Man, isn't it funny how we want some things to vanish so desparately, but then other things we just want them there with us? That vomit was disgusting and needed to be gone. But it stayed. My wallet needed to be there but it was gone. What then? I feel as if that's what this summer is about for me. The things I want are distant but that doesn't mean my own personal growth should be halted. I can still take advantage of this refreshing summer to learn, read, travel, adventure and grow in many ways (even if it's a pain in the butt process). And of course, it's good to come face to face with the messy stuff and to have people alongside you. Sometimes what you need to satisfy your life will take work. Or sometimes, it's your roommate lifting up the couch cushion to find your wallet underneath. And
then you feel like an idiot. Live and learn. Live and learn. That's what this summer is dedicated to.

the drive home.

Humans tend to hold grudges. We also, on the other hand of it, beg for forgiveness. We forget we were once in that position when we’d literally do anything to undo our mistake. The truth is, the problem with humans is that we aren’t straightforward enough, or sometimes, we’re too straightforward. When it boils down to it, almost everyone is either afraid, selfish, or my personal favorite, insecure. We stay mad at a person until their time is well due because we want them to come begging back to us, reminding you of all the great qualities we have, which falls under their category of why they can’t live without you. Or maybe, we think of all the trouble that goes into trusting someone and are too cowardly to open us up to the idea of happiness. We search and spend our whole lives investing in the meaning of true happiness. When it comes close, we dismiss it, begging for the forgiveness from the creator of our unhappiness. If you’re not straightforward enough, it will leave you feeling empty, dissatisfied, or even fake. Now if you’re too blunt, you can come off as rude, or selfish; no one likes to feel misunderstood. So, what’s the answer? Do you speak your mind when you know it will do more harm? Or do you keep quiet, giving satisfaction to the ones who think they are superior to you?

 I caught myself thinking about dogs. For example, the lonely Labrador ignores the violent Pit-bull, secretly an inner fighter. It doesn’t care if it’s being taunted. Why? Well, he’s tired. He could proof himself if he wanted to, but there’s really no point. They won’t ever meet again. And if they do? The Labrador could prove himself then. Time will tell all. Or, picture two dogs in a battle. One bites his competitor’s ear, while the other dives for the right front paw. After the combat they lay next to each other, simply too tired to continue. They both realize their state, mutually aware of their weariness as a sign to move on.

Tonight, on my drive home from work, I passed a dog trotting on the side of the road. I didn’t hesitate because I was tired, and cranky and whine, whine, whine. After I passed him, I immediately started thinking how the dog would affect me.  And so, being selfish, I realized I didn’t want to have the label of a dog killer. By now, the dog was almost to the highway. Almost to my subdivision entrance, I turned my car around on a mission. By the time I arrived to the end of the street that meets the highway, the dog was already making his way toward the moon on the busy intersection. I found myself with my window down, crying and begging for the “puppy” to return back to me. The dog could have stopped and forgiven my previous selfish behavior, but then that would be giving glory to my new area of selfishness. He didn’t care, but more importantly, he was free. If it were me, even though I had somewhere to go, I would of averted my attention to the pitiful cries of someone who was to blame for my current inconvenience. I guess that’s the difference between me and him, for as he approached his death, he never turned around. Happy was how he died.

could you repeat that?

I'm 19 years old. So, with logic, you could say that I've been going to Texas for about 18 of those years.

With a sigh of relief, I can happily rest my eyes at night knowing that this horrific experience of a semester is over. In the midst of it, in hanging out with my friends in the moments of relaxation or during those rare moments of a study party transitioning into a dance party, did I wonder, “Why do I think this is so bad?”

Now don’t get me wrong, this semester challenged me. But when I look back at it, it was manageable. I mean, I am typing right now, aren’t I? A lot of variables went into it; I knew it wasn’t a simple equation. I finally figured it out. The lack of familiarity drained me. I compare it to my freshman year and realize there were far more changes that took place then, so how was this year any different? I guess the only conclusion I have is the unexpectedness of it all.

To name a few: apartment living was new, actually grocery shopping and cooking dinner (but let’s be honest, Chipotle is like two minutes away) and taking on new financial responsibilities in general. On top of that, I felt an incredible amount of pressure from school and gained a slightly different circle of friends.

Don’t worry, though. All of my absolute favorite things were still very much consistent. I still had to memorize the same French verbs to conjugate, I still mastered waking up 10 minutes before I had to be clocking into work, I continued the pattern of starting a 6-page paper the night before, or hauling my smelly, coffee-stained laundry to my nearest friend’s apartment. Yes, all of my favorite things. In truth, my moments of solitude cooped up with a book that didn’t bore me to tears, lying around on a Saturday morning watching Friends, or late night spontaneous drives to Big Tree were my favorite moments. Too much of what I do sometimes is me trying to be adventurous, when I’d rather sip on a hot cup of coffee with a dear friend. Sometimes you want to silence the pressures of this world that scream “go, go, go” and instead become one with your couch for the day. There’s a fine line between laziness and relaxation, but that’s for a different day.

If you ask those that know me well, they can attest to me being a crab leading up to the first break. And when we all came back it was noted by many that I seemed like a different person. One comment was even, “Madi is back!” I could take the time to be actually saddened that I let the semester get to me as much as I did, but it’s already taken too much of my time.

So, what was it about a break that was so effective as it was? I mean was it really sleeping in until lunchtime that could repair a few months of damage?  I truly believe that it was the moment I dug out that homemade dumplings recipe, where the edges are starting to curl, with a couple of night’s rest with my dogs at my legs and extra dry legs from multiple baths, that I felt like myself again. I went back to school and when I should have been studying for the Statistics final that I literally failed, I instead invited some friends over one Sunday afternoon and cooked those famous dumplings. Do I regret it? Well, only that I should have made more dumplings.

Traditions. Like going to Texas for the past 18 years.

I’ve gotten not only the privilege, but also the heartache, of watching my grandparents grow older with each visit. 

I can name many of the places for lunch in the Little Rock, Arkansas area. I can show you where my dad went to high school, I can tell you my grandmother’s order at Whataburger and direct you to the nearest Target. I can point to what I order at my favorite Mexican restaurant and guide your eyes to my favorite family portrait that I know is hanging in the same spot since the last visit. Some things have in fact changed; my granddaddy has a dog now, we have lost and gained a few passengers over the years what with life’s curveballs and more recently, we repeat ourselves a little more.

I know I have mentioned my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s before but it’s a subject that shouldn’t be brushed aside.

Things have quite drastically changed with her.

Our visits have went from walking in the door, inhaling the overuse of her lavender perfume in preparation for dinner, to walking in and watching as she pushes herself up from her recliner to greet us. Not many things remind you of your true helplessness more than in moments of watching a loved one’s health as it decreases.

They do what they can to get by, my granddaddy and her. They have been married for longer than they would like and they could name every flaw, quirk and peeve about each other if you asked. Actually, no need to ask. For as long as I can remember, my grandparents have had their own separate “living” rooms, each with a TV in it to watch the shows of their liking separately.

When we aren’t in Texas, we especially hear all about how my grandmother is driving my granddaddy up a wall. But when we’re there, I don’t see it as much. They simultaneously keep to themselves, and completely depend on each other. Like my brother said, they know everything about each other. They may not like each other at times, but they really don’t know how to live without each other.  

During this specific visit, things weren’t drastically different from the last. The picture still hung in its place; I ordered my usual at the restaurant and so on. Except one thing: my grandmother stayed in her recliner in her own separate room more than usual. It got to the point where we were all visiting in the other room with some extended family and my brother had to call her in with us several times.

Later on that day, I went and sat in that chair of hers and tried to see things from her point of view. In front of me was the TV that didn’t know much of a life outside of the sports channel, collectable clocks surrounding me and on both sides, the Dallas Cowboys football schedule taped to whatever will hold it up. I sat there and felt like Anita Lee.

Maybe, just maybe, when the people she loved the most were around her, visiting from miles away, she needed her own space. When we all sat around in a circle, sparking up various conversations, her eyes wandered from one to the next trying to remember what the opening line was in the first place. She may have felt overwhelmed and unable to contribute to the conversation, leading to her shutting down and isolating herself a bit.

And I’m sure that when we said our goodbyes and she hugged our necks, she went back inside and sat down in her chair. Not because she was sad, but because it was familiar. 

the way of suffering.

Sophomore year.

The name of my blog has the word "joy" in it. And if I'm allowed to confess to you all, I've been struggling. I've been living with the absence of joy in this season of my life.

I have been swamped with stress. Between classes, the Rock, work and focusing on relationships, I'm exhausted. I feel like a mess, completely worn out most of the time. Is that an excuse?

A couple of weeks ago, I was sharing my story with a dear friend of mine. Whenever I reach a certain part of my story, I briefly touch on it and leave out bits and pieces. That part is usually the time frame  of the extreme joy in my family's life, specifically the Mediterranean cruise we went on. I have mentioned before that I usually shy away from this subject because I think some memories are too special to be shared. But as I told this friend of mine my story, I told a specific part of it that I never actually had said out loud before. Looking back, I think I was meant to share it to fully understand it myself.

One part of this excursion was two days spent in Israel. Yes, Israel. I remember my dad telling me during this trip that I should keep a journal for the end of each day and to prevent forgetting, write about all of the details that I am now struggling to remember. A few parts of this trip included putting our feet in the Jordan River, touching what was believed to be "the center of the world" and seeing the Via Dolorosa. The Via Dolorosa means "the way of grief" or "the way of suffering". The Via Dolorosa is a street that that was the path for Jesus, carrying his cross, on the way to his crucifixion.

By this point in my dad's life, he couldn't make it many places without assistance from his cane; his body was too weak. Whether it was getting on busses or walking on a moderate incline, he had his cane. And yes, he was in a lot of pain. But nothing was stopping him from seeing what was ahead and what he knew was promised to him at the end of it. It worked in terms of stations. The crucifixion path, and still today, had been made into 14 different stations, each station holding significance of Jesus' journey to the cross.

It's hard to fully grasp and conclude Jesus' emotions of that day all in my meaningless blog. But if I were to imagine, if we were to all imagine, the word that comes to my mind is peace. This man, in complete and utter suffering, continued on to make known his purpose.

When I think of this story, and the correlation between Jesus and us, I become emotional.

Jordan River

The center of the world?

Believed to be where Jesus was crucified. 

That day, I watched my dad struggle on that path of suffering. He didn't complain, nor did he wish to turn around. He kept going, as peace and joy flooded his mind.

As I look at how small my worries seem in my life now, I honestly feel silly. There will be stress and struggling in my life, specifically in this time of my life. So what? I have learned that if you dig yourself a hole of self-pity, you will fall into it. I have no need to complain or worry. 

For as I have heard the story of Jesus, and witnessed my father walking that path, they joyfully pressed on, completely at peace with the glory that was promised ahead.

dog hair, nails, and car rides.

The last time I sat down and blogged, I was in Estes Park, Colorado. That post contained a ton of love for people which I am already missing tremendously. I've been back in Missouri for a week today, yet I feel like ten different lives have been shoved into this past week.

The plan all summer was to depart Colorado after work and drive through the night with Heather and Jacob. After leading up to that day for weeks, our anxious hearts finally met Saturday, August 16th. There were a lot of strange emotions I was experiencing. I was going to go to work and try to enjoy the last day and avoid thinking about leaving certain people and the mountains. Unfortunately, on Saturday morning I woke up to a few calls from Heather. Heather had found out that her aunt was in the ICU, and learning this, Heather wanted to leave immediately and begin the 14-hour trek back to Missouri. Thankfully, our supervisor was understanding and instead of completing our final shift at the Y, we began saying our goodbyes at lunch. I have to laugh whenever I think about my friend asking me if I usually cry when I say goodbye and me responding with no; I had tears in my eyes after the first hug. After we said all the "see you soon"s and breathed in our last Colorado air for awhile, we squeezed in (all the cool souvenirs you buy during a summer become a lot less cool when they take up more room in the car than yourself).

We arrived in Festus around 5:30AM Sunday. My mom met me outside, helped me haul my belongings inside, and I headed straight for my bed. I remember laying in my big, comfy bed that wasn't a bunk bed and that didn't require a ladder for me to get into it, with one dog at each side of mine, and thinking, "I have no troubles in this life." Yeah, it was that magical.

When I woke up, I began unpacking from Colorado and packing for moving into my apartment. Luckily for me, I got a packing break that night to visit with my family. Confession: I really missed my brother! And then, on Tuesday morning, I left Festus to transition back into college life, this time a little different than last. A few things were still the same: moving a bunch of excess crap of mine that is questionable as to why I even own, my mom's birthday (poor mom) and it. was. stinkin. hot. Good ole Misery. Oops, Missouri. And because there had to be some spark of adventure to moving into my first apartment and feeling like an adult, it was that my apartment was on the third floor of one of the oldest buildings in Columbia. No elevator. And so this was us:

Nah, I'm just kidding. Praise the Lord that it was already furnished, so all it took was six of us ladies, a few hairbands and our muscles. Boom.

Now, I am very much a get-er-done type of person. An idea enters my mind and if I don't complete the task right then, I go slightly insane. So when I arrived at the apartment, I saw it as one giant project that needed completed, rather than the multiple little projects that it actually was. Oh, I need lights above my bed. Oh, that picture needs hung there. Oh, that floor needs mopped. Oh, we need groceries. One other thing that was different coming into this year than last: I'm a sophomore. Which meant that I was no longer a freshman. So despite my determination, I would have to wait. There were friends that needed welcomed that I hadn't met yet, and visiting to be done with the friends that I had. Committing my time elsewhere was challenging for me because I wanted to finish everything first. Excessive planning can be a huge flaw of mine. But let me tell you a quick story. Last night, I was interrupted during hammering some nails in the wall by Heather's laughter. It was the kind of laugh that is contagious and makes you think, I want to laugh too. It drew in Melissa as well and we both joined Heather on the couch. We then watched as a girl online had posted a video, post wisdom teeth surgery. If you ever want to be reminded of life's simplest joys, go on YouTube and search "wisdom teeth aftermath". Anyway, it was the hardest I had laughed in a while. 

Through these past few days, things have been anything but still. But those rare moments have been the most memorable. Whether it was laughter on the couch, enjoying iced coffee with a new friend or watching Friends by myself, I'm learning to appreciate the moments of quietness more and value the sound of these keys being pressed rather than the sound of nails being forced into the walls. And more importantly, you can't plan those rare occasions that put many things into perspective. I won't forget hugging people wearing my housekeeping shirt in the dining hall. I won't forget laying in bed with both my dogs and enjoying every second of having dog hair on me. I won't forget sweating and climbing the three flights of stairs with all of my CO souvenirs in boxes. I won't forget sitting on the couch with my roommates, rewinding the same part twenty times. 

And finally, I can't help but think, it will be one interesting day when I move into my first house.