The past few days, I have been thinking about my mom a lot. Don't get me wrong, I think about her almost everyday. However, lately it's been more than usual. Probably because the Holiday season is right around the corner, and for me it kicks off tomorrow. My mother loved the holidays. I mean, she absolutely adored them. She made sure to make every childhood moment during Christmas special and memorable for all of us. She embodied more spirit during these months than most people I know. I am a Christmas fanatic. I am straight up looney when it comes to the birth of Jesus Christ and decorating the house in red and green colors and millions of sparkling lights. Still, nothing I do during the season can even hold a candle to what my mother did. She made sure to convey the true meaning of the holiday as much as she could, whether it be Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Independence Day, Memorial Day, etc. And while the Advent season is my favorite time of the year, and despite the fact that there is Christmas music being played on my computer as I type out this very blog, I DO REMEMBER that Thanksgiving comes first. And in the true spirit of my mother, I have chosen to acknowledge the fall holiday and recollect all that I am thankful for.
1.) My life and health.
2.) Jordan. For being such an awesome person and working his hands to the bone so he can provide for his family as soon as he can.
3.) My family.
4.) Tim DeRuyter
5.) My job.
6.) Food on the table and two roofs over my head.
7.) Ryan Tannehill.
8.) My Education.
9.) Books.
10.) Aspen, Colorado's existence.
11.) Money in the bank account.
12.) My Nephews.
13.) Von Miller.
14.) Homemade Macaroni and Cheese.
15.) My Amazon Kindle, without which I would not survive my Tues/Thur classes.
16.) The joyful welcoming my puppy gives me everytime I come home, not matter how bad my day has been.
17.) Bananas.
18.) Mike Sherman.
19.) Carnation Instant Breakfast.
20.) My faith.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
"It was Judgement Day in Aggieland..."
I originally posted this two years ago in rememberance of the 12 Aggies who lost their lives building Bonfire in 1999. I was in the 6th grade when this tragedy befell on Aggieland, and eleven years later I can still remember that day as if it were yesterday, and my heart hurts just as much. I truly felt connected to the Aggie family at this point...and from then on, I made sure to never forget.
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Nine years ago today, I was in the sixth grade. Twelve years old, snuggled in bed safe and warm, and oblivious to what was occurring 75 miles northwest of Houston. My older sister aroused me from my deep slumber early in the morning to inform me that the Texas A&M Bonfire had collapsed.
The stack had fallen.
So many students (at least a greater majority) attending the University in the present time have no recollection of this event. They had only learned about it upon fish camp, or perhaps strolling the campus one day when they came upon the memorial.
I remember as if it were yesterday.
My older brothers were in College Station going to school (maybe the oldest one had graduated already, I can't remember) when the tragedy occurred, and my first thought was to make sure they were okay. My mother, of course, placed her call and made sure they were not on the Polo fields when it fell. They were both okay.
We were fortunate.
I sat and watched the television all morning. I watched as crew members removed log after log from the stack. I witness students jumping in to help whenever they deemed it necessary, hoping to recover their fellow Aggie family members. I saw helpless students drop to their knees to pray, the only thing they could do.
I cried.
I was shuffled off to school and taken away from my news outlet, but I still heard updates. I heard the number grow as people murmured in the hallway...2, 4, 6, 7, 11, etc. I felt so helpless. All I could do was watch. I clipped newspaper articles in the week after and made sure to keep them to make sure I would never forget.
I didn't need the newspaper articles.
What I felt that day was unexplainable. I was only twelve, but I had never felt more apart of the Aggie Family. I made my own memory ribbon and wore it to school over the next three days and continued to pray for the fallen 12 and 27 injured. A few weeks later we visited College Station and walked over to the Polo fields. My mother lost it. The atmosphere was amazing, both good and bad. Here was this area, roped off with police tape and orange temporary gating, where a tragic event occurred and where people lost loved ones and friends. Twelve had lost their lives, but there must have been over 40,000 sets of flowers, pots, rings, notes, and anything else the student body could think of laying beside the makeshift orange barriers. I later learned that at the time of the collapse students ran up and down their dorms yelling for everyone to go to the stack and help save those caught in the destruction. The football team and students came together and pulled off logs one by one with their own bare hands. The Aggie spirit was being tested.
The Aggie Spirit overcame.
Even in times of tragedy, we stood strong. Throughout the aftermath and the years to follow we helped in any way we could and made sure to never forget. I visited the memorial earlier this year in May, I walked away with a heavy heart. The events of November 18, 1999 were tragic, but we must never forget. Those students perished working on a tradition they loved at a school they held dear to their hearts, and for that reason we must treat them with the same devotion they gave to Texas A&M University. Now, I am not going to get into all the "should Bonfire be brought back to campus" argument. I don't believe I have the right to make that call, nor do I believe it to be the responsibility of anyone who was not affected by this event directly. We have to respect the families of the ones we lost. If they are comfortable with seeing one of A&M's greatest traditions burn again, then so be it, but until that time....
We must never forget.
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Nine years ago today, I was in the sixth grade. Twelve years old, snuggled in bed safe and warm, and oblivious to what was occurring 75 miles northwest of Houston. My older sister aroused me from my deep slumber early in the morning to inform me that the Texas A&M Bonfire had collapsed.
The stack had fallen.
So many students (at least a greater majority) attending the University in the present time have no recollection of this event. They had only learned about it upon fish camp, or perhaps strolling the campus one day when they came upon the memorial.
I remember as if it were yesterday.
My older brothers were in College Station going to school (maybe the oldest one had graduated already, I can't remember) when the tragedy occurred, and my first thought was to make sure they were okay. My mother, of course, placed her call and made sure they were not on the Polo fields when it fell. They were both okay.
We were fortunate.
I sat and watched the television all morning. I watched as crew members removed log after log from the stack. I witness students jumping in to help whenever they deemed it necessary, hoping to recover their fellow Aggie family members. I saw helpless students drop to their knees to pray, the only thing they could do.
I cried.
I was shuffled off to school and taken away from my news outlet, but I still heard updates. I heard the number grow as people murmured in the hallway...2, 4, 6, 7, 11, etc. I felt so helpless. All I could do was watch. I clipped newspaper articles in the week after and made sure to keep them to make sure I would never forget.
I didn't need the newspaper articles.
What I felt that day was unexplainable. I was only twelve, but I had never felt more apart of the Aggie Family. I made my own memory ribbon and wore it to school over the next three days and continued to pray for the fallen 12 and 27 injured. A few weeks later we visited College Station and walked over to the Polo fields. My mother lost it. The atmosphere was amazing, both good and bad. Here was this area, roped off with police tape and orange temporary gating, where a tragic event occurred and where people lost loved ones and friends. Twelve had lost their lives, but there must have been over 40,000 sets of flowers, pots, rings, notes, and anything else the student body could think of laying beside the makeshift orange barriers. I later learned that at the time of the collapse students ran up and down their dorms yelling for everyone to go to the stack and help save those caught in the destruction. The football team and students came together and pulled off logs one by one with their own bare hands. The Aggie spirit was being tested.
The Aggie Spirit overcame.
Even in times of tragedy, we stood strong. Throughout the aftermath and the years to follow we helped in any way we could and made sure to never forget. I visited the memorial earlier this year in May, I walked away with a heavy heart. The events of November 18, 1999 were tragic, but we must never forget. Those students perished working on a tradition they loved at a school they held dear to their hearts, and for that reason we must treat them with the same devotion they gave to Texas A&M University. Now, I am not going to get into all the "should Bonfire be brought back to campus" argument. I don't believe I have the right to make that call, nor do I believe it to be the responsibility of anyone who was not affected by this event directly. We have to respect the families of the ones we lost. If they are comfortable with seeing one of A&M's greatest traditions burn again, then so be it, but until that time....
We must never forget.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Cancer Can Never Win
So I had this whole Playlist Thursday thing planned out for today...then I looked over my musical selections and realized that they were all SUPER depressing, and no one wants to be depressed right? I mean, the whole point of Playlist Thursday is to get excited about the weekend! Now I have nothing.
That's it. Nada.
I mean, everything in life right now is about the same as always.
School sucks, God is great, Jordan is fine, family is amazing, blah blah blah. And I don't want to ALWAYS blog about the same things over and over. THAT IS SO BORING. I get tired of writing about them, and I know you get tired of reading about them. So I am thinking...what on earth could I write about today? Something I may have never opened up about before...perhaps?
Ok here it goes. Take a big, deep, relaxing breath. Close your eyes and prepare yourself for this:
Cancer.
Ok ok ok ok ok. I know this topic isn't all that gleetingly joyful either, but something is happening this weekend that just reminds me about my perspective on the whole topic of "The C Word" that just makes me want to expell my thoughts and emotions over it.
Cancer sucks.
That was a big shock, wasn't it? But no really, it absolutely and entirely sucks. In fact, I think it is the closest thing to hell a human being can experience on earth without actually being in hell itself. Just last week, in my delightfully wholesome and oh, so important Women's Health class, we had a two day lecture about cancer, especially cancer in women. There were about 15 or so slides about the risks, the causes, the chances, the signs, the dangers, the statistics, the symptoms, and yadda yadda yadda. In my mind, throughout the whole presentation, I had thoughts like this:
Prof: "you can get cancer if you don't eat right."
my thoughts: "ok, but my mother ate right all the time."
Prof: "you can get cancer if you don't exercise."
my thoughts: "ok, but my mother exercised ALL THE FRIGGIN time, she was in amazingly good shape."
And about 10 other things that all warranted the same response:
"OK, but my mother did all those things and she still got sick."
I have a hard time dealing with this part about cancer awareness. Everytime someone wants to lecture about it, they always make it seem as if the person who was diagnosed with cancer must have done something irresponsible to warrant them getting ill in the first place. They must have done something wrong and cancer is the result. They must have smoked, been fat, never exercised, or gotten the proper check-ups for early screening.
I have to pray to Jesus real hard to control my emotions and not have an uncontrollable fit of rage and throw my pencil at their face everytime this happens. Because an individual can do everything in their power of prevention and still be diagnosed. Cancer is an evil that has no boundaries. It is not biased. It does not care if you are married, have two or eight kids, or are only 16 years old. There is not a temp that goes door to door, surveying the people figuring out who would be the best candidate for contracting this disease. Cancer will not knock on your door, ask to come in, notice the bassinet in the corner and go "my apologies, clearly you already have your hands full and there is just too much love in this household. I shall go and visit someone more convenient."
One day, cancer knocked on my mother's door. It did not care that she bore and loved and cared for eight children. It did not care that she was one of the most loving and wonderful women ever to walk the earth. Instead, cancer ignored everything about my mother's life and barged right in without permission.
Cancer can be so rude.
But here's the kicker. Everything has it's weakness. Nothing is perfect. We all have our faults and pressure points and one of the greatest things about this truth is that evil does too. And because cancer is evil and there is a light to every dark, cancer doesn't stand a chance.
Cancer may think it has won once it invades the body. It can progress, alter your appearances, make you wish you were dead instead of living out the days of chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Loved ones can't bear to helplessly watch as they see their wife, daughter, son, husband, brother, sister, mother, father, grandfather, etc. succumb to the evils that is "the c word".
However, cancer only thinks that it has won.
When my mother passed away and cancer watched my entire family in the immediate days preeceding and following her death, I bet he was doing a victory dance. "Look at all of those sad faces! Look at all of those tears! Just look at all of the pain in their hearts! I have made the ultimate victory! I have attacked one of the largest and closest family clans in the city of Houston, and look at them now!"
Cancer had made one of its biggest mistakes.
Cancer can never win.
Yes, while losing my mother was hard and seeing my whole family mourn her loss was difficult, it in no way or shape ripped us apart. That is one thing cancer can never do. It can never, ever, not in a million years, ruin what is there before it so rudely barges in on peoples' lives. The only thing cancer succeeds in doing is creating one of its most powerful enemies. An opponent. A group stronger than it will ever be. Powered by love, cancer creates fighters.
My mother did not lose her battle. How can it be a loss when, after years of struggle and you run out of the energy needed for here on earth, you get to go and join our Lord and Saviour in his Kingdom of Heaven? How can it be a victory for cancer when hundreds of loved ones come together, join hands in a church and sing of God's praises? On the day of my mother's funeral, almost 1,000 people gathered at St. Vincent DePaul to honor her life. To say thank you for all that she had done. It was the single most empowering moment of my life, to know that just one person could do so much in just 49 years.
Cancer can never ruin what was there before.
My family remains one of the closest and most loving clans. We know that cancer could never defeat what we had and still have to this day. We know that cancer can never win. Every time we smile, every time we laugh, every time we remember and look up to the heavens in praise, we sing out our victory. We tell cancer that it can go to hell!
Every Spring, we gather together in one of the largest efforts to permanently remove the evil of cancer from the lives of millions around the country and the world. We come together in love and in faith and raise money so that we can give back, and give hope to all those affected by the evil. We continue to stand together as an example that although we may have suffered in the past, we refuse to bow down and take the defeat. In doing this we hope that more bells can be rung for every patient deemed "cancer free". For everyone who has run out of time and gone to join the Lord we can remind them that there is never a loss and what laid before can never be brought down but built up higher and higher and stronger and stronger!
This weekend, my family is coming together for the hundredth time this year. Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers, will gather in Aggieland to celebrate life and enjoy the beautiful weather. We will smile, we will laugh, and we will look up to the heavens in praise and we will know...
cancer can never win!
That's it. Nada.
I mean, everything in life right now is about the same as always.
School sucks, God is great, Jordan is fine, family is amazing, blah blah blah. And I don't want to ALWAYS blog about the same things over and over. THAT IS SO BORING. I get tired of writing about them, and I know you get tired of reading about them. So I am thinking...what on earth could I write about today? Something I may have never opened up about before...perhaps?
Ok here it goes. Take a big, deep, relaxing breath. Close your eyes and prepare yourself for this:
Cancer.
Ok ok ok ok ok. I know this topic isn't all that gleetingly joyful either, but something is happening this weekend that just reminds me about my perspective on the whole topic of "The C Word" that just makes me want to expell my thoughts and emotions over it.
Cancer sucks.
That was a big shock, wasn't it? But no really, it absolutely and entirely sucks. In fact, I think it is the closest thing to hell a human being can experience on earth without actually being in hell itself. Just last week, in my delightfully wholesome and oh, so important Women's Health class, we had a two day lecture about cancer, especially cancer in women. There were about 15 or so slides about the risks, the causes, the chances, the signs, the dangers, the statistics, the symptoms, and yadda yadda yadda. In my mind, throughout the whole presentation, I had thoughts like this:
Prof: "you can get cancer if you don't eat right."
my thoughts: "ok, but my mother ate right all the time."
Prof: "you can get cancer if you don't exercise."
my thoughts: "ok, but my mother exercised ALL THE FRIGGIN time, she was in amazingly good shape."
And about 10 other things that all warranted the same response:
"OK, but my mother did all those things and she still got sick."
I have a hard time dealing with this part about cancer awareness. Everytime someone wants to lecture about it, they always make it seem as if the person who was diagnosed with cancer must have done something irresponsible to warrant them getting ill in the first place. They must have done something wrong and cancer is the result. They must have smoked, been fat, never exercised, or gotten the proper check-ups for early screening.
I have to pray to Jesus real hard to control my emotions and not have an uncontrollable fit of rage and throw my pencil at their face everytime this happens. Because an individual can do everything in their power of prevention and still be diagnosed. Cancer is an evil that has no boundaries. It is not biased. It does not care if you are married, have two or eight kids, or are only 16 years old. There is not a temp that goes door to door, surveying the people figuring out who would be the best candidate for contracting this disease. Cancer will not knock on your door, ask to come in, notice the bassinet in the corner and go "my apologies, clearly you already have your hands full and there is just too much love in this household. I shall go and visit someone more convenient."
One day, cancer knocked on my mother's door. It did not care that she bore and loved and cared for eight children. It did not care that she was one of the most loving and wonderful women ever to walk the earth. Instead, cancer ignored everything about my mother's life and barged right in without permission.
Cancer can be so rude.
But here's the kicker. Everything has it's weakness. Nothing is perfect. We all have our faults and pressure points and one of the greatest things about this truth is that evil does too. And because cancer is evil and there is a light to every dark, cancer doesn't stand a chance.
Cancer may think it has won once it invades the body. It can progress, alter your appearances, make you wish you were dead instead of living out the days of chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Loved ones can't bear to helplessly watch as they see their wife, daughter, son, husband, brother, sister, mother, father, grandfather, etc. succumb to the evils that is "the c word".
However, cancer only thinks that it has won.
When my mother passed away and cancer watched my entire family in the immediate days preeceding and following her death, I bet he was doing a victory dance. "Look at all of those sad faces! Look at all of those tears! Just look at all of the pain in their hearts! I have made the ultimate victory! I have attacked one of the largest and closest family clans in the city of Houston, and look at them now!"
Cancer had made one of its biggest mistakes.
Cancer can never win.
Yes, while losing my mother was hard and seeing my whole family mourn her loss was difficult, it in no way or shape ripped us apart. That is one thing cancer can never do. It can never, ever, not in a million years, ruin what is there before it so rudely barges in on peoples' lives. The only thing cancer succeeds in doing is creating one of its most powerful enemies. An opponent. A group stronger than it will ever be. Powered by love, cancer creates fighters.
My mother did not lose her battle. How can it be a loss when, after years of struggle and you run out of the energy needed for here on earth, you get to go and join our Lord and Saviour in his Kingdom of Heaven? How can it be a victory for cancer when hundreds of loved ones come together, join hands in a church and sing of God's praises? On the day of my mother's funeral, almost 1,000 people gathered at St. Vincent DePaul to honor her life. To say thank you for all that she had done. It was the single most empowering moment of my life, to know that just one person could do so much in just 49 years.
Cancer can never ruin what was there before.
My family remains one of the closest and most loving clans. We know that cancer could never defeat what we had and still have to this day. We know that cancer can never win. Every time we smile, every time we laugh, every time we remember and look up to the heavens in praise, we sing out our victory. We tell cancer that it can go to hell!
Every Spring, we gather together in one of the largest efforts to permanently remove the evil of cancer from the lives of millions around the country and the world. We come together in love and in faith and raise money so that we can give back, and give hope to all those affected by the evil. We continue to stand together as an example that although we may have suffered in the past, we refuse to bow down and take the defeat. In doing this we hope that more bells can be rung for every patient deemed "cancer free". For everyone who has run out of time and gone to join the Lord we can remind them that there is never a loss and what laid before can never be brought down but built up higher and higher and stronger and stronger!
This weekend, my family is coming together for the hundredth time this year. Cousins, Aunts, Uncles, brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers, will gather in Aggieland to celebrate life and enjoy the beautiful weather. We will smile, we will laugh, and we will look up to the heavens in praise and we will know...
cancer can never win!
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