I always forget how hard March is, until the memories of my part are uprooted from my subconscious. I have been upset, the last few days, but unaware as to why. I get in these moods where I want to be in a good mood but can’t, for reasons I can’t put my finger on, until they are staring me in my glossy tear infested eyes. I wore grey yesterday, the color of medulloblastoma awareness: I wore pink today, her favorite color. I checked Facebook to do an update for work, and there it was, the first thing on my feed. Stella would have turned five today.



She passed away April 3rd, 2012. We drove down for her funeral were in town about 48 hours drove home and went to church for Easter Sunday.


Rewind a year: The day is March 22nd, and Jacob and Keith Mulberry pass away. Car Accident. We were all on Spring Break. I didn’t realize he was the one everyone was talking about. Image

Jake was in my German class sixth period. I attended the visitation Sunday March 27th after begging my mom to let me go. I don’t remember exactly how long I stood in line with Kasey Gifford, Lauren Hart, and Jack Parr, but I remember the sound the man in front of us made when he saw Jake. The sound that can only be understood by the tears it brings to your already wet face, and the chills on your already cold arms. I wouldn’t have made it through the visitation if it hadn’t been for Jack, who let me cry on his shirt, and spoke to Jacob’s dad when all I could sputter out was, “I’m so sorry”. As his dad reassured us of the comfort that comes with knowing Jacob is with God, having been very much a believer. I went home and packed my things for the next day’s “adventure”. Mary Dunlap had received word of my soon departure, and picked Meghan and I up for Starbucks, where we spent what seemed to be hours talking about what was to come for me. Being accustomed to these kinds of talks, I realized how short this conversation actually way.
March 28th, I sign all the required forms, and require the same of my teachers as I get lots of confused looks and sad departure hugs. Sixth Period comes. The tears come, as a councilor has been designated to sit in our class because of the events that have taken place over the past week. We all wait for her to leave, and our community takes a collective sigh of relief when she does. The tears flow, and tissue boxes are passed, no one ashamed of the snot dripping from our faces or the mascara under our eyes. We share stories about Jake, and the class end. I say goodbye to Jack, and go to my last ever class in Conway Public School District.

I always loved by last two classes of the day due to the community we all shared with each other.

Mrs. Bowden informed me toward the end of class that I had to finish paperwork and would not be allowed to finish out the class period. I shouldn’t have been surprised by this premature closure of time: it’s pretty standard for my life. I fill out paperwork, and the final bell rings. I frantically try to find my friends to say ‘goodbye’, the fear of being ripped from this moment pulsing in my core. More tears, mom and Meghan come to say goodbye, dad picks me up, he and I leave the state.



March 28th, I sit in another councilor’s office, plan out my schedule, wait for it to process, take a tour of the school where I am shown where my classes will be, then go to class. A new day: a new life. An empty room with an air mattress, a mini fridge filled with food for a few days, living out of two boxes. March 31st we go back to pick up Meghan, I go to an ROTC Ball with Eamonn, Callie, and Zach then spend the night with her.


Handout with friends April 3rd, and go back to my new world.


Mom joins us the 10th, and so does the rest of our things.



I think I’m done crying today, I can only hope, as I prepare for class within the hour. I wear pink to remember Stella. I have covered my grief with makeup that I asked myself why I was even putting on because it will just come off when I start crying: I do it because I can’t dwell on the sorrows of my life. I will be celebrating three years in Texas on the 29th, along with all the blessing God has given me over the last one thousand ninety-five or so days. Everything happens for a reason, and I’m going to love the way Stella did, and laugh the way Jake did, all for the glory of God.




I guess its time to finally tell the story of how I got to Criswell, as I have been asked many times over this past month, “Why are you here?”

After the transition and settlement from my fifth youth director to my six, and weekly church events took place on a normal basis, Troy began telling us the importance of praying and seeking truth. Being the good little Christian I was, I followed suit, and prayed for this along with “guidance, love, and growth”. Little did I know, I would find myself at a school that teaches on the foundation of the Bible as the ever present form of modern day truth. (I don’t like the way I phrased that but I don’t know how else to say it.)

I feel that truth is a relative term, based on an individuals concept of reality, while my peers and mentors at school would not uphold the same definition of the word.

As I have studied at Criswell, my understanding of God’s calling on my life has changed, as has my understanding of truth. I have lost respect for individuals, gained respect for others, and begun to redefine the role God wants me to play in others lives. These are all truths of my life personally, based on my understanding of reality… TODAY.

God brought me to Criswell with the intentions of becoming ordained, and using my PPE degree to write legislation for Annual and General Conferences. I have recently redefined my understanding of God’s calling on my life, and am now planning to use these things I am taught to work for non-profit organizations. I said this in my first post, but I will not be able to say firmly where I will be going in the future because I point blank don’t know. God changes me daily, and my understanding of Him changes daily, so of course my understanding of His plan for me changes every now and then.

I’m not concerned about where I’m going. What’s suppose to happen will happen, because God is good. I failed a quiz today, but its okay (laughs to self).

Pancakes From Memory

I’ve had the desire to write for weeks, but it seems that every time I get in front of the computer my ideas vanish.

It’s currently the season of Lent, and I have given up most social media but have fallen into the temptation of using them anyway. I am not reaching my goal of total isolation from it, but have reached the point where I am only online for about twenty minutes, which is a huge accomplishment.

As I type what is suppose to be blue batter sits in the bowl, waiting its turn in the hot seat. Spotify plays Electric Feel, but I have the urge to skip it. Some days happiness is hard to describe. The love I am reminded of as it plays is to much for me to handle today, as I am content in the drab sky that warrants rain. It is the perfect setting for Electric Feel, and as it continues to play I give in, and allow myself to remember all those years ago the way I felt the first time I heard it.

The song ends, and I want it back. I feel no song will live up to my expectations now, but I skip through songs anyway.

I taste a fresh pancake, and disappointment glimpses my taste buds, as I realize my mistake of to much baking soda. I do a little dance as Sweet Nothing ends, then stop, right before the first new cords of Hey Ya! play. Just a little early, as if that’s new. I never realized the vulgarity of this song, but I opt out of changing it, because I have to add more marshmallows to my batter. I decide to add more color to, as I prefer having a more vibrant color than dull green. I add pink, so the mix looks swirly. The spatula is covered in dried marshmallow goo so I wash it off, to make life easier.

Finally I hear the first few cords of Banana Pancakes. It stops abruptly. I restart the song, and it flows with ease. Memories of my past life flood, as I dance around. Erika at the register dancing, Sebs in the back singing to himself, Taylor and I singing in each others faces, Tyler walks in trying to be cool with his sunglasses still on.  I pour the perfect pancake, and go back to dancing as if they were with me again. Lots of awkward little dance moves ensue and the song ends. I wait a few seconds, then decide I want to listen again. Press play, and nothing. I go back to the stove… waiting… waiting… waiting. I assume it just won’t play, and focus on the stove. The cords begin again.

It feels good to be alone in my own thoughts sometimes, but silence can cut like a knife if not timed properly.