I Wore Your Jeans Today

"Reason #456789 that cancer sucks," is how Laura would've started her blog post....I think about that a lot of times. About what she would've had to say about this or that.. I wonder what she would be blogging about this time of year. I think about how Lilly is starting 5th grade and how confusing 5th grade is anyways, but how especially confusing it must be without mom. I think about all of it. I think about how fast it all happened - because one week I was arriving home for the summer and she was saying, "So what do you think, Hai? Ya gonna stay in the Alabama or are you coming home?" and then just a few weeks later she wasn't saying much of anything at all. I think about how we went to see her in hospice, and she wasn't awake. I think about how we got the call a few hours later, and how I sobbed on the phone to my mom, and how my brother locked himself in his room, and how I spent the whole next day making goulash because that was the right, Runion, thing to do. It is always in the back of my mind.

It has taken me this whole two and a half months to finally find the strength to write again. It has taken me this whole time to find the words. You often hear about the "stages of grief," and how the last stage is acceptance. I'm not sure if I've quite reached that stage yet, but I think I'm pretty close. Maybe. I know I'm not all the way there yet, because I encounter these people in public places who are just horrible - horrible manners, horrible habits, typical "people of Walmart" kinds of humans, carting around a gaggle of kids or an innocent newborn, and I wonder why Laura had to leave us. Why did Laura, who was a loving, protecting, encouraging mom to her kids, have to go? I wonder what makes it fair, that those horrible people get to stay on this earth and treat their babies badly, when Laura had to go to heaven, even though she treated her babies like precious gold. It makes me sick sometimes...like the "take-a-deep-breath-and-do-some-breathing-exercises" kind of sick. I'm healing. We're all still healing. But, this is not a "before mascara" post, as Laura would have called it.

Before things got really bad, Laura asked some of us (close friends/family) to sort through her things. She was still with us, making that thought very morbid and very much something that I'm sure most of us wanted to ignore. I couldn't bring myself to do it for the entire month of July, after we had been without her for a month. Finally, (and I'm pretty sure it was the day before I absolutely had to pack my things and get ready to come back to Alabama,) I sorted through her clothes. I touched them, recognized them from her Instagram pictures and Facebook photos, and I got teary eyed. I begrudgingly picked a few things - some dresses and scarves; yoga pants and t-shirts; jeans and a few tops. It just didn't feel right, ya know?

This is me in one of Laura's dresses. I wore this to our THIRD anniversary dinner

And then it took me a while to wear those things. I just couldn't bring myself to wear them yet. And it isn't like I picked out her most favorite things. They're just clothes. That's it.

This is me, celebrating a field goal, in Laura's hat. This is probably the ONLY thing I really "wanted" of hers. She always looked so cute in hats.

So, back to this acceptance stage thing. I know I'm getting there because I've been wearing her clothes. And what's cool is that they fit me. They fit me so perfectly. AND, every single time I wear something of hers, I get at least two compliments. Which tells me that she's with me, because, "Duh, Hai, you're wearing my clothes, why wouldn't you get a compliment?" and I can see her smirk in the rustle of a tree as I walk through campus. This has happened more than once. In fact, it has happened every single time I wear something of hers.

But today, today was different in the most ironic of ways. Today was quite possibly one of the busiest, painfully stressful days of my college career. Today I wore a pair of Laura's jeans. Let me remind you of what I said earlier: I think about her often. I'm always thinking of something snarky that she might say, or maybe something sweet. I see pictures of Lilly and Cam and Keegan and I think about her smile. And I think about something biting or poignant or ironic that she might say online. Today, I wore your jeans, Laura Leigh. And in the most cliche, sisterhood-of-the-traveling-pants way, all of these funny things happened to me.

Funny Thing #1:
I started the day at this new, very trendy cafe for a breakfast meeting. I ordered a fancy coffee - a hazelnut macchiato. YUM. I love fancy coffee. I got my fancy breakfast food. It was delicious. And I was handed my fancy coffee...except it wasn't the fancy coffee I ordered. It was truly just a shot of espresso. I did sip the espresso. It was as bold and cutting as anything.

This is what my fancy breakfast should have looked like. This is the breakfast I ordered a few weeks ago. Just replace the fancy hazelnut macchiato in the corner with an extra dark roast shot of espresso.

Funny Thing #2
After my fancy coffee didn't go as planned, I made a trip to a place on campus for a regular, not so fancy coffee (it still may or may not have had whipped cream...I'm not at liberty to disclose this information,) and a water bottle. I gritted my teeth as I waited for the cashier to ring me up...expecting a $7 total...instead, she looked at me, and said "That'll be $4.10," and I said, "But I have this water bottle too, I don't know if you saw it?" and she said, "I know. $4.10," with a smile. And that was cool because my large (sort of) fancy coffee should've been $4.79 by itself. It was as sweet and thoughtful as anything.

Funny Thing #3
I went through the rest of my day in a caffiene induced stupor, and finished my classes and meetings without many problems. A bird pooped in my car while the top was down, but, that's minor damage. Anyways, that's actually not the funny thing. Nothing a Clorox wipe won't fix, right? I have been scheduling meetings for a consultant visit all week, and it's been very, very difficult to get 20+ people's schedules to mesh, and some people don't really understand that. And because they don't understand that, they kind of really have not so nice attitudes about the schedules and even though they don't know how hard it is, it still hurts my feelings just a little bit. It's okay. I'm not asking for pity. My advisors told me that good leaders will have that happen every once in a while. So, as I was driving to work to pick up my paycheck between class and meetings, a song by the Alabama Shakes came on. It's called "Hold On," and some of the lyrics go like this:

Bless my heart, bless my soul, I didn't think I'd make it to 22 years old.

There must be someone up above saying 

"Come on, Brittany! You got to come on up..."

....

So bless my heart and bless my mind.

 I've got so much to do, I ain't got much time.

So, must be someone up above saying,

"Come on girl, you've got to get back up! You got to hold on,"

Poignant, right? 

So all of these funny things. These funny, snarky, bold, sweet, ironic and poignant things add up to remind me of my amazing role-model cousin Laura Leigh. I know that all of these funny things mean something. I know that even though it's a major cliche, they were all definitely a "sign," of some kind. She must've known I needed to hear her voice today in the irony of just a shot of espresso, in a discounted coffee order, in bird s#@t! in my car, and in a bluesy song driving with the top down. All of these funny things bring a tear to my eye. Because it is in all of these things I'm reminded of the shortness of life; I'm reminded to stay humble, but to stay snarky; I'm reminded to keep my chin up, because there's a reason for everything, because there ARE a few people up there helping me hold on, I think; I'm reminded to live my life to the fullest, and to enjoy the things that I've been given, because even in the bad days you can find a blessing in disguise.

So, yeah. I am still doing some MAJOR healing. But I think I'm getting some help from someone that we haven't seen in a while. I think that she knows I needed to hear a few things from her today. So, thank you Laura, for letting me wear your jeans today. It really helped.

These are Laura's jeans. And I wore them with a really cool shirt. My shirt says, "HOPE a little each day. Let hope be your guide in life. It shines through the toughest of trials and takes you to a better place. Even in the darkest times, a glimmer of hope will keep you going. Hope in love, grace and righteousness. In doing so, you could withstand all things and gain faith. You will transform into a person of great character who stands firm in all things that are good. In all things that are for the truth. In all things that are patient. Hope will give you the strength to never give up and to never be hopeless. Always keep hope close to your heart and soul and one day hope will lead you to your true awesome destiny."

The "C" Word

How do I begin? Where do I start? 

This thing..this disease has caused my family too much hurt, too much heartache. To quote a dear friend, "I have a bad attitude towards cancer," and so does the rest of our clan. Lung. Brain. Breast. The parts of our bodies that allow us breath, thought, love....the most quintessential pieces of ourselves can be ravaged by this one vicious enemy, this cancer. 

This thing...this disease has brought us down to our lowest lows. It has enhanced our worst qualities. Warning: ferocious when hungry (and sad.) Warning: no sound train of thought, (especially during tough times.) Warning: emotionally unstable, might burst into tears at the drop of a hat, (or the sight of a pink ribbon.) It takes away the strength of those it latches onto, this cancer. 

This thing...this disease has left us feeling hopeless one too many times. I have felt angry at cancer more times than I can count. We have all felt angry at cancer. We're a big, angry-at-cancer army. Angry. Hopeless. Heartbroken. The most fearless of fighers can feel cowardly in the shadow of this one contemptible condition, this cancer.

This thing...this disease has stolen from us. It has stolen some smiles. It has stolen some time. It has stolen some lives. It is a thief that is often unable to be caught. Stop stealing from us! It is a criminal for which there is often no reckoning, this cancer. 

We're lost. We're broken. We're angry. We're missing pieces, but......

But. 

We, who are lost, who have lost our breath, thought and love to cancer can be found.

We, who are broken, who are exhausted by the less-than-charming characteristics cancer brings out, can endure.

We, who are angry, who are an army of utterly and fervently ticked-off-at-cancer people, can find peace.

We, who are missing pieces, who are left with fragments of smiles, of time, of memories, can find a way to become whole.  

But, how? 

It's only through each other. It is only with the help of those closest to us that we can take our lost, broken, angry pieces and put them together to become something whole, and something good. It is only through hugging at the dinner table, that we can squeeze away the heartache. It is only through shared  smiles-through-tears that we can, eventually, see a rainbow through a perpetual dark cloud. It is only through a firm resolve to find delight in every day, in every teeny-tiny blessing, that we can erase the anger.

Our lost-ness makes us brave. Our brokenness makes us durable. Our anger makes us determined. Brave enough to face another day of fighting. Durable enough to make a lasting impression of love on everyone surrounding us. Determined enough to keep sticking out that stubborn chin that we're all famous for, to show "the 'C' word" that we're going to find happiness and blessings amidst the chaos it has caused.

Woven together, our bravery, our endurance, our determination creates a 1000 count cotton sheet of support. Support that will be sturdy enough to catch us when we fall. Support that will be delicate enough to know when it's okay for us to just say nothing. Support that will be warm enough to comfort us even in the most discomforting of times. Support that comes from friends, from family and from faith. Support that stems from smiles. Support that grows and grows and grows with each passing day. Support that emerges when we pray. When we pray out loud, when we pray together, and when we pray silently for peace, for comfort, and for joy to head in the direction of those who have been hurt by cancer...that is when our finespun sheet of support is felt the most. 

So, keep being brave. Keep enduring. Keep being resolved to find the good that God has given us. Keep praying. Through our friends, through our family and through our faith, we press on, and we 

stay strong.

How Not to Chill

I have quite possibly the worst air-travel playlist imagineable. I have entitled this playlist "Chill" because it's supposed to, you know, help me chill...so anyways, it's a great playlist for if you're relaxing in a hammock like I was earlier this week, but it's just not so great for a day spent in airplanes.

Let me explain: I arrived at the Muscle Shoals airport (a miniscule airport - I was catching a hopper flight to Nashville, where I'd then fly with Southwest to Cleveland) at 5:00am, with a carry-on and a personal item (milking each for all they were worth) and my oh-so reliable boyfriend who patiently walked me inside and sat with me while I waited for the TSA people to open up shop! You know it's early when the TSA people aren't even ready for you. We watched some informercials on TV, with a few sporadic minutes of news in between. Coincidentally, one of the nice TSA people was one of my sorority sisters' dad, and he noticed I was wearing my Phi Mu letters so I chatted with him for a couple of minutes. I would say what a small world at this point, but the Shoals has such a small-town atmosphere that I'm not surprised. Either way, it was very nice to see a friendly face so early in the morning.

I promise I'll get back on track here. Jeremy decided that it was time for him to go on to work so he left me with a kiss on the forehead and a strong hug. Proceed to security check, because Mr. Fults and the other nice TSA person were ready for me now, and begin to board the plane. So, this plane was unbelieveably small. I hadn't been on a plane that small in about a decade. In fact, there was only room for about 12 people on the plane, including the pilot and co-pilot. And, it was a front propellor plane which freaked me out just a little. The pilots were super nice and accomodating, but the plane was so small and I just got too nervous. And so, logically, I turned on my "chill" playlist to shuffle me through my long day of travelling.

The first song that came on was called "Sedated," by one of my new favorite artists, Hozier. At this point my nerves are speaking to me. They're saying "Yeah, I wouldn't really mind being sedated right now..."

The next song on the line up was "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews Band...and my nerves said to me, "lol @ u."

Coming up next was "Such Great Heights" by Iron and Wine. But let's be real, here. The chorus to that song says "they will see s waving from such great heights..." Uhm no, thanks. Not what I wanna hear while the propellor is rattling the entire plane. I said to my nerves, "Can u not?"

Finally, I came to "Sing" by Ed Sheeran, which really did calm my noisy nerves, not because it's a very relaxing song, but because it literally has no implications of being about flying high up in the sky and waving your arms wildly as the smallest commercial plane ever crashes into the ground.

After that, I looked out the window and all I could see were tiny, twinkling gold lights and grey clouds and it was beautiful. My little hopper flight made it to Nashville just fine. In fact, as I drafted this post on my iPhone in the "notes" app, the tiny trusty plane touched down and landed me safely at the Nashville International Airport where I will do this all over again in about 2 hours...maybe on this flight I'll pick a new playlist.

Like a...Boy? Controversial Thoughts on SuperBowl Ads or One in Particular

Raise your hand if you watched the 2015 Super Bowl. Now, Raise your hand if you just watched it for the commercials. Me, too! Okay, so raise your hand if you saw Always' "Like a Girl" ad. If not, you can check it out here (I posted the entire video, not just the 1 minute long commercial), and if you don't have time to watch, all you really need to know is that Always put together a brilliant ad/social experiment featuring older boys and girls and pre-pubescent girls. The facilitators asked the older people to do something "like a girl." The participants were shown mimicking "girls" fighting, which looked like this....

and mimicking "girls" running which looked like this.

Funny? Sort of. Until the facilitators asked the younger girls, all around ages 7-10, to show what they thought it meant to do something "like a girl." And can you believe it, these sweet, strong, young girls, who remind me of my little sister and cousins so much it made my heart swell, tried their hardest at whatever they were asked to do. They fought like little boxers. They ran like small Olympians. Why, why would we ever not fight like a female Muhammed Ali? Why would we ever not run like Lolo Jones? 

You play ball like a girl!!!

The worst part about all of this is that some men are actually mad that this ad was a success. They've created a Twitter account under the name "Meninist," and have tweeted with much snark and sarcasm about how they feel left out by the #LikeAGirl campaign. They even went as far as making #LikeABoy trending on the popular social media site. Thankfully, Buzzfeed was there to help us out by documenting the mysogynistic havok that these crybabies had wreaked. If you click the link, you'll find screenshots of tweets from men that were offended by the #LikeAGirl ad. Which, quite frankly, is ridiculous. As the Buzzfeed thread kindly points out, the phrase "like a boy" has not ever, once in the history of the world, been used as an insult towards a male.

P.S., meninist is not a word.......

Since the beginning of time (sort of) women were often walked over. Women have been shot down and silenced. Women have been deprived the right to vote. Women have been denied equal pay, and in the beginning of this era, women were even denied the right to work--a working woman was looked down on and seen as something of a last resort. Some women are even under the impression that all of this is just fine and dandy and sadly, some women believe that their purpose in life is to be put down and disregarded. The women that believe this might not necessarily word it that way; instead, they might say something along the lines of "Well, women were created from the rib of the man....we're supposed to be silent and mild, and we're supposed to help the greater sex with what they need, when they need it.." and they will probably feed you some Scripture (taken out of context, of course) to show you why it's okay for women to be pushed down and shoved around.

I have a wake-up call for these women...

Yes. God created women to be a help-meet for men. Because literally, Lord knows men would be lost without us. But God also created women to be powerful. He has used women incredibly throughout the course of history. And, haven't you ever read Proverbs 31? Just in case you haven't, it can conveniently be found here. To sum it up though, the "Proverbs 31 Woman" is strong, a hard worker, a provider, a philanthropist, humble, yet intelligent, kind and is considered by most to be the picture of a Godly woman. God intended for women to be strong, hard-working, intelligent and kind.

I'm not a burn-your-bra, man-hating, liberal feminist. I'm just not. The idea that women are better than men and the idea that men are better than women is just absurd. I could go into more depth about everyone on the Internet's idea of good feminism, bad feminism, meninism, sexists....the list goes on and on, but I don't want to get into it and frankly, I don't care that much (seriously, just don't even try to scrape the surface of feminism on the Internet because it is terrifying). Honestly? If you really wanna know what I think about all of this, here it is: I want to get a job and recieve the same pay as my coworkers; I want my sweet, sensitive, smart, spunky little sister to stay that way her whole entire life. I want my sassy, athletic, adorable little cousins to stay that way too. I don't want them to grow up thinking that doing something "like a girl" is a bad thing. I want them to grow up to be exactly who they want to be, because they should be allowed to do that. My wish for them, and every other girl in the world is that they grow up to be strong, smart, and kind.

At the end of the day, I think all of us could learn a thing or two from the little girls in the Always ad.