NOTICE:  the original was previously posted by me last month.

They edited a few paragraphs out, but here it is, now published by CETUSA:




Last year my family hosted out first exchange student.

It didn’t work out.

But this isn’t about her.

Around Christmastime, another exchange-student entered our home. Her original host-family did not want to take care of her for a second semester. She was a homeless bird from Norway, and her name is Katie. She was supposed to stay with us just temporarily, but when no acceptable home was found (we gave it about two weeks), my family filled out the paperwork to keep her the rest of the year. The original exchange student was not happy – she insisted Katie made her look bad, and that they could not both live at our house. To make a long story short, the original student left our family (by her own choice) and stayed with a friend. A little over a month later, she was sent home.

Katie became my big sister. There was something so unique about her – not the branded ‘unique’ that so many kids use as a tool to try harder to fit in – she was really one-of-a-kind. She wore huge, lime green glasses; leopard spandex short-pants; and too-large, bright pink Hurley shirts. Katie loved to wear her hair in french-braids, and always had at least two bracelets made of hemp dangling from her wrists. She loved colorful everything – hairbands, shoes, dresses – and none of it ever needed to match.

And soccer – God did Katie love soccer! She was not the star player, but she put all her energy into it. Despite the cold, I would go and watch her at her games. On the sidelines for more than half of the time, she would yell out to me “did you see did you see?” for every kick, pass, block, and goal. I wish, now, that I had gone to her games more often…

Katie taught me Norwegian words, giving me the nickname “Jaevel” and earning the nickname “Hurpe”. She skipped down the halls and sang Winnie The Pooh in Norwegian and was fascinated by brightly colored bowling balls…In her room was a huge Norwegian flag (I helped her personalize her room…it was fun) over her bed. Countless times at 11 or even 12 at night I would crawl onto her bed and talk about life. She never judged me and I never judged her. She helped me so much to gain confidence in who I was; that I wasn’t just another pair of feet trudging to school, or another pair of hands typing away. She taught me not to just go through the motions – but to stop, and to live consciously.

She was more than my best friend – she was my sister – and she still is. I am saving to see her in Norway. I miss her very much, and have come to appreciate how she encouraged me. We’re lucky in life to meet even one person like Katie…

C + M together on the piano bench…

He kept making me laugh.  But look at his face – what do you guys think – does he love me?

The infamous friend Keli and me at the dance

“Here’s looking at you, kid”

M

Swimming the past few years has taught me a lot several pertinent things about myself.  I decided today, that I would write down five of these lessons; sharing one after each big swim meet this spring…

Today’s?

1)  Your biggest competition is yourself.  A teammate may be quicker than you or closing in on your best time; naturally, you should feel the adrenaline-driven competition to either catch up or stay ahead.  But, if your focus in practice (or during a meet) is I need to lap so-and-so or I need to finish my 200 breaststroke before her, you are an idiot will not improve.  Your main focus in practice should be I need to work towards a nice body an internal battle to improve yourself.  Beat your own records, ask for help on your technique, or even just work on your stamina.  Whatever you do, don’t be so caught up in being better than someone else that your own times (and concentration) slips away.

In life, the only constant is you.  Other people will enter and leave your life, and while you should always be a truly generous person friend to them, you need to focus on yourself, too.  Improve your outlooks, your thoughts, your actions, and your habits.  Spend time making yourself a person that your future significant other you can wake up to each morning.  Don’t just acknowledge your flaws; correct them.  That is the difference between a good swimmer and a great swimmer; a nice person and an inspiring person:  the ability to consistently improve yourself.  Try not to get jealous or overly-competitive with others, because in the long run, you’ll look bad and waste your entire life your biggest competition and reason for improvement is yourself.

Today’s Swim Meet Turnout : Atchison tied with Leavenworth for second place with 194 points.  Our team snatched first with a total of 423 points.  Next week is against one of Blue Valley’s teams; we will be crushed.  But it balances out, I think? 

M

I remember the first time a boy went out of his way to help me.  It was in fifth grade during recess, and it was a nasty day;  one of those dead-cold, bone chilling days where the wind is enough to knock you to the ground.  The uniform sweater felt as thin as a candy wrapper, but the teachers refused to let the students in because it technically wasn’t freezing.  It was a 40 minute recess.  I was already sick from a respiratory infection  I was miserable.

My friend - I have always referred to him as Adda – had one of those nifty two-layer coats.  He took it off, unzipped the layers, and handed me the heavier one.  We proceeded to play bridge tag with the rest of the fourth-sixth grade classes until the wind really picked up.  I remember having to stop and bend over to cough.  Adda frowned and took the second part of the jacket off, reattaching it to the one I was wearing.  I never asked him to do so, but I was immediately grateful.

Call it friendship or chivalry, it was one of the nicest things anyone has done for me, and I will never forget it.

What was the first time you gave/received ‘chivalry’?

Would you give up your coat on a cold day for a friend?

M

Fate plays a funny hand in life.  I believe that in life, our personal choices are what ultimately determine the courses that our lives take…however – call Him God or just coincidence – something else works in our favor…then again, perhaps the choices of others, really make the difference.

A girl – renamed “Michelle” – had her baby this past Saturday.  Michelle is nineteen, and the baby’s father – renamed ”Lee” - is the man for whom she rejected C.  Yet, how easily the father could have been C…a few dates interrupted by Lee (Michelle’s boyfriend), that uprooted any relationship developing with C and Michelle…and then there was me, too, not helping her cause… 

I wasn’t ever supposed to have met C.  My friend found the advertisement for this camp under a load of papers on an unused school bulletin board…her parents wouldn’t let her go unless I accompanied her, so being good friends, I agreed.  C himself wasn’t intending on going either; his reason for attending had to do with Michelle, actually…

But we did meet.  We stayed in close contact – both making the decision and the effort to keep in touch, daily.  I began to trust him, to love him.  And I made the choice to go after this boy I had met by chance.  I was relentless, and his sights turned from Michelle to me.  Michelle then returned to Lee, got pregnant, lived happily(?) ever after…

All of our actions – by Michelle, Lee, C, and me – have formed the relationships in which we share today.  If Lee hadn’t pursued Michelle, she would have stayed with C; if she had stayed with C, he would not have attended the camp (at least without her); if he hadn’t attended, he would have never met me, never dated me.  Then again, had Keli not insisted on my attendance, had I not gone, had I not made the effort; I would have never dated him, either…

So many choices that determine our life, are never really made by us…

…but, our own decisions are what finalize our fate…

Confusing subject matter.  But, something to consider, something to appreciate, something to meditate on, perhaps?

I do wonder.

Do such small things determine entire futures?  The futures of not just me, but my children, grandchildren?

M

The girlfriend of the young marine; laughing and chasing him through the military housing, trying to get a decent picture for Christmas cards.  The girlfriend to whom he shows full vulnerability; falling asleep as she strokes the fuzz of his high-and-tight, kissing her shoulder and reminding her how much he loves her.

That’s the girlfriend I want to be.

The wife of the young marine; writing letters in German while he is on duty, holding him tightly to her when he is home.  The wife to whom he shows full appreciation; running to her and picking her up at the airport, kissing her cheek and reminding her how much he loves her.

That’s the wife I want to be.

The mother of the young marine’s children; taking the sacraments to the alter at church, children ecstatic to be able to hold the eucharist or the wine, or content to be in the crook of her arm.  The mother to whom he shows full faithfulness; returning home as quickly as possible, kissing her forehead and the children’s and reminding her how much he loves her.

That’s the mother I want to be.

The woman standing beside the young marine; educated and following her own passions and dreams, while always supporting him and their family with her entire heart.  The woman to whom he shows full respect; seeing her as his other half and treating her with care, kissing her lips and reminding her how much he loves her.

That’s the woman I want to be.

M

^ if you caught the reference to the Muppets, kudos ^

Everyone has that friend that your parents insisted you would marry by age seven.  In my case, his name is Danny.  Our dads grew up together, therefore so did we.  When we were little kids we were inseparable.  I remember when we were five and six, we were twin terrorists at another of our fathers’ friend’s wedding.  We stole all the bubbles from the reception and had a girls vs boys war after the ceremony.  We also watched the adults and attempted to dance like them – something of which my mom loves to show me pictures.  When I moved to DC the following year, I lost touch with Dan.

The moment we returned to Kansas (four years later), our dads were getting us back together again.  Dan’s family subsequently moved to Japan.  I didn’t see him again until middle school.

During 8th grade, we resumed our close friendship.  My friend Aileen and I went to Colorado Springs a few times to see him.  Our families celebrated Thanksgiving together and summer holidays (and continue to).  He went to my swim meets freshman year – showing no shame at cheering for the slowest swimmer.  Sophomore year we faded again. 

Yesterday he came over to visit.

My God, has he grown up.

We talked about school and friends and experiences and college and plans and sports and politics.  He is a black belt now, almost as conservative as our fathers, wants to be an environmental engineer, wants to go to college on the west coast (I’ll be in the east), wants to move back to Japan as soon as he graduates…

We are determined to stay in touch now; despite our parents’ incessant teasing.

It’s funny how those old friends never really go away

Dad:  I hear we are getting four-to-eight inches of snow

Mr S:  That’s nothing

Mom:  I don’t know; eight inches can be pretty substantial…

Mr S:  True, so we’ll probably need to leave in an hour or so.  In the morning, we’ll have to pull out early.

Dad:  I find its always best to pull out earlier than you feel necessary…

Dan + M:  -on the floor laughing-

Our parents need help, by the way.

M

I just posted this Gerber I Pledge widget for 500 credits. You can earn free credits too!

There was an extra team suit ordered.  Coach decided that he would chose a number between one and one-hundred, and whomever guessed closest would be rewarded with the extra suit (NOTE these suits are about $76, so its nice).

Coach:  I wrote the number on this paper here.  It is a special number to me…it is my son’s number that he used all through high school and now in college.

J.:  Ohhhhhhhh your son!!!!!!!   Mmmmmm!

K.:  How is he doing?!  Will he come to practice again?!

Coach:  He’s doing fine, starting baseball at _______ and he’s loving it.

Me:  Oh really?!  What’s his number?!

Coach:  Its thirty-thr—-darn it May!

M.

Blue Angels at the National Museum of Naval Aviation

Young Marines…

My niece Chloe at the beach

Chloe with her balloon puppy

McGuire’s Irish Pub – over $500,000 in dollar bills on the ceiling!

M