Speaking of hated Christmas Tunes..... James Corden's foolishness redeems a song I typically loathe.  

Ahhhh, the hilarity of it all:

I disagree with the Christmas-come-early craze in America..... decor hitting the shelves after

Halloween and Santa songs blasting from store speakers before Thanksgiving.  I admit wholly to my curmudgeon-ish ways. I simply believe we should celebrate holidays in the order they appear in our calendars.

However, once words of thankfulness are gushed and my waistline regrets all the Thanksgiving overeating..... then I happily indulge in Christmas Tunes.

My indulgences have limits, however, because I systematically dislike songs about Santa being run over, reindeer making too much sound on the roof, moms kissing Santa, and generally obnoxious Kris Kringle based songs.

I do like songs about winter, snow, cold, cheer, family, and Jesus. Yes, I'm pretty "old school" in that I really enjoy Christmas Tunes that include celebration of Christ's birth.... since God becoming man is the beginning of the story that ends in my rescue! I think my favorite Christmas song is "O Come Let Us Adore Him," so I leave you with a powerful rendition of this beautiful Christmas tune:

For as long as I can remember "like a girl" has been a negative phrase.  Coaches told me not to hit the ball "like a girl."  Teachers responded to hurt feelings or tears with a warning: "don't be such a girl about it."  I've heard baseball fans heckle opposing teams with one enduring insult: "you swing like a girl!"  Boys tease other boys on the playground for being "a girl" or "a sissy" for various reasons. In short, the phrase is used to shame and minimize girls and boys alike.

Why?

Why has the description "like a girl" become a common place taunt?

What if we (as women, as men, as a society, as a human race) worked to RECLAIM the phrase? What if we make the phrase "like a girl" mean daring and courageous things?

I salute the Always company and their quest for this reclaiming.

Today calls for a little celebration!

I just turned in final grades for two of the hardest courses in the COMM program.  Two courses, in miscalculated delirium, I chose to teach simultaneously.  After endless hours of grading, final scores have been submitted to the registrar.

My next move it to jump on the couch and rock an air guitar for approximately 10 minutes.  Allow these outbursts of dance to fully communicate my excitement.

Bring on the summer! Looking forward to sunny days, pool parties, camping trips, walks with Addie dog, swim lessons with nephews, cookouts, and vacations!

Hallelujah! Summer is here!

Several thoughtful texts were exchanged between Tennessee and Puerto Rico today; I guess that's the going rate of conversation when my best friend is a world traveler. Today the notion of hope sifted from our texts.

I don't typically speak of hope.  Perhaps because I identify as (a bit of) a cynic on many topics, and critics regard hope with incredulity. Yet, I see a pattern of hope in my life--- but a hope that is different from my long held understanding of faith.

In everyday conversation, I often use the two words interchangeably: "I hope your flight arrives on time" and "I have faith your flight will go smoothly." See how easily these words can be exchanged for the other? Perhaps such interchangeability is a mistake! In fact, the book of Hebrews defines faith as the assurance of things hoped for and the certainty of things not yet seen. Faith is characterized by notions of assurance, hope, certainty, and mystery. Faith is not defined as hope.

My point? Simple. I believe there are times, topics, and circumstances for which I feel hope but lack faith. For years and years, I prayed for my future husband to come along.  I prayed incessantly for something I highly doubted. I wanted a brave love but did not feel assurance God had that relationship in the cards for me. 

And yet, when I flip through old prayer journals, I see those prayers repeated over and over again. Refashioned prayers where I petitioned candidly for "Scott" [side note: my Scott turned out to be an Adam]. These detailed prayers are indications of hope... or my insanity.

Most of my life I've thought of hope as an honorable but dainty characteristic. A winsome trait I lacked in manner and faith. But my understanding of hope is changing.  I no longer classify hope as the delicate sister of faith. Instead, I've come to see hope as enduring madness because hope is longing for something you aren't certain will ever come to pass.

But let us hope anyway. Hope wildly and frequently. Hope for safe flights, brave loves, restored relationships, renewed purpose, wholeness, and other "insanities."  Pray prayers of repeated lunacy that indicate your unassured hope. May God meet us in those utterances... and maybe even turn our hopes into faith and fruition.

A week ago one of my best friends went hiking.  On that fun Saturday outing, her fella got down on one knee and asked her to be his wife.  I've been excited for her everyday since she started dating Leon but that joy has doubled since she responded with a YES!

It's easy to celebrate with E!  Her journey towards finding her "one" is relate-able.  She wasn't the prom queen or the sorority socialite.  Instead, she was the college girl who developed a handful of friendships---- but you always heard the most laughter from behind their dorm room door.  E is fun to celebrate because her journey is real, not riddled with fairy dust and easiness.  Though E is gorgeous, she is down to earth.  She's reserved and, yet, one of the silliest friends I've ever had.  She is authentic... but without lording her humility over you and making you feel lesser.

I am excited to be excited for my friend as she basks in the joy of loving Leon and choosing marriage.  My joy doubles when I think upon her journey that has led to this romance.  I am grateful for all the prayers that broke her of fear and trembling (a closed-ness she once knew).  I am grateful that she is a Christ lover and seeker, enabling Him to slowly but surely mold her as He sees fit (Jeremiah 18:6).  He alone has made straight her paths (Proverbs 3:6).  He has prepared her for what lays ahead.

And so... I celebrate with E!

My church is doing a series on Old Testament prophets. We kicked off with the book of Hosea, which has been neat because I haven't read Hosea in years.

Allow me to recap the primary concept from this book: Hosea marries a prostitute named Gomer who keeps returning to her lesser lifestyle instead of remaining with Hosea, who loves her desperately.  Their union is meant to be a reflection of how we (all of humanity) respond to God's great love: "yeah yeah, I hear you Jesus. That's nice that you care for me and have plans for my life. Now off to the brothel I go."

The first few chapters of Hosea are glorious.  We see him repeatedly seek out Gomer and she returns to him (again, symbolism for our tendencies). Here is an excerpt from chapter 2.

Therefore I am going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her.  There I will give her back her vineyards and will make the Valley of Achor [which means trouble] a door of hope.  There she will respond as in the days of her youth...  "In that day," declares the Lord, "you will call me 'my husband' and no longer call me 'my master'." (verses 14-16).

Now, just to be credible, please don't think the whole of Hosea is a sing-songy depiction of God's fierce love and forgiveness for His people. For a large portion of this book, that is not the tone. In fact, the bulk of Hosea describes God's frustration with His people who keep turning from Him. He's good to them, He loves them, He leads them, but they are rebellious still. Hosea catalogs all of this.

But like a loving Father, the story doesn't end in anger and well-deserved punishment.  He ends by nearly making a fool of Himself and going into the brothel after us (just as Hosea went after Gomer again and again). Chapter 14:4 says,

I will heal their waywardness and love them freely, for my anger has turned away...

Mark, my pastor at Crossings Knoxville, showed this video as a memorable summary of God's great love, reflected in the story of Hosea.

The United States Postal Service (USPS) has made this a fun week by bringing exciting items to my door.

First, my wedding invitations came today!  Second, a pal's baby shower gift showed up this afternoon. Finally, en route to my home are four different books from my amazon wish list.  Note: If I were Meredith Pace, this would be my everyday life, ha ha, but I'm only an amateur book lover in comparison with Mere.

Normally, the wedding invitations would take the cake, but one of the books on its way to my loving arms is Khaled Hosseini's newest novel.

Ohhhhh beautiful, talented Khaled Hosseini.  I adore this author. And because of my sincere respect for his gift, I've grown bitter that there's only two Hossieni masterpieces published... until now.  His third novel was released this week and will be consumed upon its arrival.

I cannot wait to enjoy And the Mountains Echoed. The very thought of its arrival is making USPS my favorite.

You know that saying: hindsight is 20/20?
What a true statement!  I find that I can see so clearly when I reflect back.

---
This morning, as I was driving to work, one of my favorite "girl jams" from the 90s came on the radio.  If you grew up in my era, you're probably familiar with Cheryl Crow's Strong Enough.  Man oh man did I love that song! I would play it on repeat in junior high and high school (right along with all things Alanis Morisette, old-school Jewel, and eventually the Dixie Chicks. Shout out to the Lilith Fair days.)

Anyway, back to the song.
I was a bit surprised this morning as I re-absorbed the lyrics.  Three minutes down the interstate and my blood was boiling because it's actually a horrible song for women (especially impressionable teenage girls).  Here is the chorus, the sole idea repeated throughout:

Are you strong enough to be my man?  Lie to me, I promise I'll believe. Lie to me, but please don't leave.   -Cheryl Crow, Strong Enough, 1994 

Crow begins and ends the song by mentioning her frustration ("I feel like hell tonight" and "When I've shown you I just don't care & I'm throwing punches in the air").  In between it all, she coos to her fella: are you strong enough for this? Strong enough to support me, bad days and all?  If you aren't, just lie.  Lie and I'll believe it... because what's worse than the lie is being alone.

What a tragic message to teach women!  And honestly, it's nothing new in our culture. For instance, how many women do you personally know who stay with someone who's basically an okay guy because it's someone?

---

I hate to admit it, but Crow's message made roots in my teenage heart-- deeper than I want to acknowledge.  Hindsight is 20/20 on this one.  Truth is: throughout my college & grad school years, every guy I ever dated, I knew I didn't want to marry.  Every single one of them, I knew... and yet I'd stay in the relationship.

Isn't that systematically ridiculous? That women are taught to seek any relationship because it beats solitude?  What a bullshit notion!  Being in a bad relationship isn't better than being alone.  In fact, even being in a decent relationship does not trump singleness; I'd argue it's the pretty-good romances that really mess with your head because you spend your days convincing yourself to settle instead of getting out of the relationship.

So I guess here's what I'm trying to say:

Cheryl, your melody is lovely but your lyrics are abhorrent.  Those words speak an ugly message into our world, especially to women who are already tempted to believe that being alone is the worst of all realities.  I'd like to state for the record: if you're with a guy who is not strong enough to be your man, then get the hell out.  If you're with a fella just to be with someone: move on.  Staying means you believe the lie that being in a relationship is better than being out of one (which just isn't true)!  
And if you are single, that's alright. Even on the days where singleness feels like an abyss of solitude and marital hopelessness, remind yourself that you're okay and lonely days pass. If you're single, you likely have pluck which makes you a stunning beauty (and we should be friends)

Finally, in either case, it's time to remember that we know not the minute or hour when *Prince Charming might show his face at last.


*double entendre for you to chew on.

My dear friend Chassity sent me the following list in an email last week. I enjoyed many of Freeman's points, so I'm sharing:

The top 10 things that we should be informed about in life.

The answers of Justin Freeman, pastor of a small evangelical church in southern Missouri.

1. Realize that nobody cares, and if they do, you shouldn’t care that they care. Got a new car? Nobody cares. You’ll get some gawkers for a couple of weeks—they don’t care. They’re curious. Three weeks in it’ll be just another shiny blob among all the thousands of others crawling down the freeway and sitting in garages and driveways up and down your street. People will care about your car just as much as you care about all of those. Got a new gewgaw? New wardrobe? Went to a swanky restaurant? Exotic vacation? Nobody cares. Don’t base your happiness on people caring, because they won’t. And if they do, they either want your stuff or hate you for it.
2. Some rulebreakers will break rule number one. Occasionally, people in your life will defy the odds and actually care about you...  and they’ll listen. When you talk about all of those things that nobody else cares about, they will look into your eyes and consume your words, and in that moment you will know that every part of them is there with you.
3. Spend your life with rulebreakers. Marry them. Befriend them. Work with them. Spend weekends with them...  gather close the caring.
4. Money is cheap. I mean, there’s a lot of it—trillions upon trillions of dollars floating around the world, largely made up of cash whose value is made up...  Don’t engineer your life around getting [money...]  and make your spirit of generosity reflect this principle... 
5. Money is expensive. I mean, [money is] difficult to get your hands on sometimes—and you never know when someone’s going to pull the floorboards out from under you—so don’t be stupid with it. Avoid debt on depreciating assets, and never incur debt in order to assuage your vanity (see rule number one). Debt has become normative, but don’t blithely accept it as a rite of passage into adulthood... 
6. Learn the ancient art of rhetoric. The elements of rhetoric, in all of their forms, are what make the world go around—because they are what prompt the decisions people make. If you develop an understanding of [rhetoric... ], you will be able to see behind veils of communication and see what levers little men are pulling...  you’ll also find yourself able to craft your speech in ways that influence people. When you know how to speak in order to change someone’s mind, to instill confidence in someone, to quiet the fears of a child, then you will know this power firsthand...
7. You are responsible to everyone, but you’re responsible for yourself. I believe we’re responsible to everyone for something, even if it’s something as basic as an affirmation of their humanity. However, it should most often go far beyond that and manifest itself in service to others, to being a voice for the voiceless. If you’re reading this, there are those around you who toil under burdens larger than yours, who stand in need of touch and respect and chances. Conversely, though, you’re responsible for yourself. Nobody else is going to find success for you, and nobody else is going to instill happiness into you...
8. Learn to see reality in terms of systems. When you understand the world around you as a massive web of interconnected, largely interdependent systems, things get much less mystifying...  However:
9. Account for the threat of black swan events. Sometimes chaos consumes the most meticulous of plans, and if you live life with no margins in a financial, emotional, or any other sense, you will be subject to its whims. Take risks, but backstop them with something...  Do what you need to in order to keep your footing.
10. You both need and don’t need other people. You need others in a sense that you need to be part of a community—there’s a reason we reflexively pity hermits. Regardless of your theory of anthropogenesis, it’s hard to deny that we are built for community...  However, you don’t need another person in order for your life to have meaning—this idea that Disney has shoved through our eyeballs, that there’s someone out there for all of us if we’ll just believe hard enough and never stop searching, is hokum…  Establish your own life—then, if there’s a particular person that you can’t help but integrate... you’ll know.
11. Always give more than is required of you.

I can hardly believe I get to write this blog post because I can hardly believe this story is my own; sometimes it feels like a dream.

Six months ago I finally went out with a guy that my friend Meagan had been "pushing."  She and her husband had been in cahoots for months, chatting about the flawless match this guy and I would make.  After several failed attempts at a no-pressure group gathering, Adam took matters into his own hands.  He secured my number, called me up, and asked me if I liked sushi.  So, our first dinner was a blind date. I wandered around a restaurant I'd never been to, looking for a man I'd never seen before, trying to ignore the nervous feeling in my stomach.  Adam greeted me with a genuine smile and freckled hands. Somewhere between his "Hello" and "Can I see you again?" I was hooked.

Immediately, our whirlwind began.  That first date became four within the week.  We couldn't hide our interest or appreciation of the other's character, humor, priorities, intellect, or looks.  He jokes about being the shallow sort--one of the many ways he tells me I'm beautiful--and I laugh that I've been after a redhead for as long as I can remember. We tend to joke about our story being a fun fairytale, but the thing is, we aren't kidding.

From the beginning, Adam has been beyond all that I could ask or imagine. His words are actions, and I merely follow suit so that he hears and sees my love as it grows.

Perhaps what I'm trying to explain is that we fit. From our very first date, our connection felt like alignment.  He is the real-life answer to my prayers for a counterpart. Adam is my match in every way. He challenges me. He adores me. And the man loves me with reckless abandon.

As I tell him often, he has simply ruined me... ruined me for a lesser love.

So when he dropped to one knee with a single question in mind, I could not hold back the floodgates of happiness.  The one that my heart loves had plotted in secret to find me a perfect ring and stolen proposal moment. It was beautiful... but I will save that part of our story for another time!

Because today's account is a glimpse into a larger adventure... the story of how Alyssa became Alyssa & Adam.  It's not a new story, the idea of two strangers becoming life for the other, but we're okay with that. We aren't trying to be the first two lovebirds taking flight. We are just living our story, our adventure, our love with courage and joy.

So trust me when I say, there's more to come.

Today I read an old buddy's blog. He shared an excerpt from Bono: In Conversation with Michka Assayas and so many of Bono's thoughts are worth chewing on.
For example,

I don’t let my religious world get too complicated. I just kind of go: Well, I think I know what God is. God is love, and as much as I respond [sighs] in allowing myself to be transformed by that love and acting in that love, that’s my religion. Where things get complicated for me, is when I try to live this love. Now that’s not so easy.

Trying to live this love, that is the hard part.
God, teach me to live your love.

Remember that scene in City of Angels where Meg Ryan rides her bike without using the handlebars? She catches a glimpse of the sun through a tree-lined street and stretches her arms wide and high. She even closes her eyes towards those stunning rays and smiles with deep contentment.

This is the life I lead.
Or at least it's how I feel about life.

I was journaling last night, a practice I rarely make time for anymore, and gushed nonsensically about the gratitude that swells in my heart, mind, and soul daily.  I spend so little time thanking God for His goodness.  And so when I actually carve out the time to praise His faithfulness, I feel compelled to make up for lost times. Or something like that  :)

Last night I wrote in giant, frantic letters. Overcome with thankfulness. Overwhelmed by how He guides my steps, protects my loved ones, blesses my life, and challenges me too.  I wrote about wanting to "throw open my arms and receive and receive... overcome with all good things and desperate for more."

Now, I realize this is a thin line to walk: grateful for Abba's blessings without becoming one who looks to His hand instead of His face.  But that's not my story, at least not right now.  I rejoice in the goodness of God, not just the manifestations I recognize all around me.  I am overwhelmed by His goodness and I feel a bit like Meg Ryan. Able to appreciate glorious rays as they strike my weathered face. Able to stretch wide my arms and heart in gratitude.  Able, I hope, to invite the same from others.

I love this idea... that bravery is something to be cherished and sought after.  I want this to be true of me, that I am a lionheart and an inquirer after all things brave. May it be said of me that I strive towards courage in my own life--- making hard decisions, assuming spunky characteristics, owning stouthearted thinking, and encouraging fearless acts.

I find that I seek out others who are imprudent and daring. So many of my friends are gutsy in the way they live their lives--- the careers they choose, the adventures they begin, and the Christ they serve. Here's a recent example of just what I mean: Good Golly.

Unsurprisingly, I seek a braveheart as my spouse.  A man who is resolute in character. One who is undaunted by hard work, trials, stress, or the long way home. A selfless man with a brave love--- he who is fierce in his affection towards me. An old Jewel song summarizes this desire quite nicely:

I want a brave love, one that makes me weak in the knees. I want a crazy, crazy love, one that makes me come undone at the seams...  wherefore art thou Romeo? Where have all the brave men gone? Show me one man who knows his own heart, to him I shall belong.

What's really fun is finally knowing this braveheart (the man I've dreamed of and prayed for all these years).  Saying his love is deep, caring, brave, selfless, rich, forgiving, and assured would be an understatement.  But at least it's a start.  At least it's honest language that begins to describe his crazy, crazy love for me.

I've surrounded myself with friends, family, and a love that are rich in courage because I need it!  I need it as a seeker (of all things brave). I need spirited, plucky stalwarts in my life.  Can you relate?  Do you, too, sense a tinge of desperation for more bravery in the day-to-day? If so, then join me as a seeker...

I love going to Meredith's house because it's like visiting a special library with all of my personally honed literary tastes.  In other words, Mere and I often prefer the same authors and for all the same reasons (and the book collector in her does all the leg-work for me).  All this to say: I started reading a new book last week, one recommended and loaned to me by Meredith who said I'd love her writing style. My conclusion? The writer is truly delectable! And yes, good authors should be described in the same fashion as pastries. I prefer the following adjectives: scrumptious, delicious, enticing, charming, and savory.

My favorite quote, so far, from Love Walked In by Marisa De Los Santos is a description of the main character's first date. She writes,

We talked and talked and talked. Maybe love comes in at the eyes, but not nearly as much as it comes in at the ears, at least in my experience. As we talked, lights flicked on inside my head; by the end of the night, I was a planetarium.

I love this quote because it perfectly embodies my first date with Adam. For the first time ever, dating was simple. Pure. We just talked and talked and talked... and talked. It being a blind date, we should've been nervous or guarded. But those emotions were off-limits to us somehow; we just connected and we knew it.

I've been thinking a lot about this Love Walked In quote, about how society paints it so that love is merely lust. Society tells us love is about choosing the right looking person. Someone attractive enough, ambitious enough, athletic enough...
All of those attributes are perceived with the naked eye.

But for love to come in at the ears-- for love to unfold with every story, embarrassing tale exposed, and shared laughter-- that is beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I was satisfied by De Los Santos' quote all week long.  Until I realized: my love for Adam didn't really come in at the eyes or the ears. (Okay, maybe a little seeped in due to his freckles and storytelling!)  But I think my love for him is born out of his kindness and servant-heartedness towards me.

I wish I could count the times he's gone out of his way to do something considerate for me, but such record-keeping is already impossible.  He's a servant down to his core, always looking for ways to honor and care for me.  Some acts are practical, like fixing a light or a faucet.  Some acts are symbolic, like opening a car door or carrying my bags.  Some acts are emotional, such as flowers and singing "our" song. Some acts are mental, like inquiries about my research. And some acts are spiritual, like prayers for our relationship or for loved ones in our lives.  This man loves me with his actions every single day. And that is where love comes in because love is a verb.

----
Even Johnny boy gets that.

Adam has this funny habit of finding stuff to repair around my house. He'll come in with an agenda; he comes over and fixes broken things--- items I didn't even know were damaged.

Adam does this in my heart as well. His kindness, nearness, and emotional courage fix parts of me I didn't know were broken.  It's a beautiful process, knowing and dating this man.

And this habit of Adam's reminds me of my Father. Adam's tendency mirrors Abba, who made His agenda clear when Christ came. When Christ died to reconcile us all to God (2 Corinthians 5:19; Colossians 1:21-22). Jesus is the ultimate icon for repair.

My wounded heart is regularly laid bare, and the Lord heals it.
A fractured past is bottled up inside me, but God pierces my turmoil to restore.
When heartbreak was acute, Jesus transformed my ache into recovery.
My impatience, vile thoughts, and sinful nature reign from moment-to-moment, and then He recenters me.
Jesus fixes broken things and broken people. Actively.

Christ enters our lives with an agenda.  He comes with intentions. God sees our broken places and dauntlessly enters into the pain, to restore what was (or is) shattered.  This Abba that I follow is the fixer of broken things....

... and I am grateful.  For, like my home, I am in need of repair all my days.

If you read this blog, then you know me. And if you know me, you know how much I love my sweet puppy. I adopted Addison from a shelter last summer, and she's been my constant companion since.  Addie's my first pound puppy. So it's been an interesting year to see how her personality has developed because of her previous life (experiences she had before me).

I realize that not everyone believes that dogs can have personalities or think little thoughts in those cute furry heads. I, however, do credit dogs with moods and dispositions. Which is why I believe the reason Addie's such a "love-y girl" (as I often call her) is because she's grateful. She's glad to be somewhere safe. She is grateful to be with someone who actively loves her. She's found a forever home.

This week I realized that I am like Addison.  I, too, am a pound puppy. I've had plenty of experiences, previous relationships that shaped me. I trusted others to care for me and they did not do that well--- my heart was not protected or valued.  Until now.

And now I can see and feel the stark difference between my former life and my everyday. I understand why Addie is such a sweetheart, why she's so grateful to be with someone who looks out for her. I relate. It's a big difference! It's like night and day, and the old life makes you grateful for the new. For the feeling of safety and love. I feel like I'm finally home.

I'm finally on the How I Met Your Mother bandwagon.  It took me a few years to become intrigued by the show, but this summer I started watching it season by season. Thanks Netflix!

I was watching an episode* in season 4 that pulled at my heartstrings.  Ted is discussing his loneliness with an old girlfriend and she replies with a stunning word of encouragement. The ex-girlfriend, Stella, affirms that Ted's future wife is on her way to him. "And she's getting here as fast as she can."

It's a good reminder, especially for anyone struggling with a lonely heart. The person you're longing for, praying for, hoping for is getting to you as fast as s(he) can.
-----

* I couldn't find a good clip of just this portion of the episode (Stella and Ted's car conversation). So, if you want to view this particular scene, scroll to 17:50 and watch through 20:05.

I've been trying to decide what to write as the "grand conclusion" to a difficult season in my life.  I've spent the last month typing, deleting, imagining, erasing, and re-writing different words.  The truth is, I struggle to explain what the ending process looks like.  Perhaps because healing and restoration looks very different for every once-broken person.  Or maybe because moving forward isn't just a single decision, it's a daily choice, a pattern of liberation.  It's a determining to release everything that was and press forward with hope and forgiveness.

In terms of the ending phase, this I do know:
I'm done being angry. I'm done being sad. I'm done contemplating what did and didn't happen between me and a man I used to love.  I'm done being defined by a broken heart.  And I guess that's what makes me ready to pen a conclusion...  my mind and heart are no longer consumed by what I had, what I invested in, what I used to deem all important.

So, so-long heartache. I won't miss you a bit.
I guess I can appreciate the journey and all that I learned. And I certainly don't look back with regret. But then again, I don't look back.

Instead, my thoughts and hopes are on everything that comes next.


----

Little brother and I went skydiving back in May.
That thrill-seeking behavior has been on my to-do list for as long as I can remember. Luckily, the task was on Josh's bucket list also, so why not jump from a moving aircraft with family?!

I put Josh in charge of the details, since this adventure was to be my 30th birthday present. Josh eventually got around to reading reviews and selected a skydiving company. The date was set, plans were made, and we were ready.

Except that the adventure didn't go quite as smoothly as anticipated. Well, not for my little brother anyways...

Me and Buddy, my tandem guru

You see, only I had the experience of a lifetime. I was paired with a  skydiving veteran, he'd been jumping for twenty-something years.  Speaking of twenty-somethings, Josh's guy was maybe 22 and had been jumping approximately 300 days. I was meticulously strapped and re-strapped into my harness. Josh, on the other hand, had his gear on in 3 minutes flat and then moseyed over to my side of the hanger to discuss our growing nervousness. I was carefully fitted for goggles, they were strapped on and then re-checked before walking to the plane. Josh never saw his goggles, they were clipped over his left shoulder without ever testing their durability. Already, one can see the stark differences in the preparation process. Don't worry, things only got worse for little Joshy Washy.

The day we chose to skydive was pristine, blue skies and a lovely temperature.  There were about seven other jumpers that day, plus Josh and me and our tandems.  While waiting to climb into a completely stripped down Beechcraft King Air, I overheard some of the instructors discussing a horrific skydiving attempt.  Later I looked up that video, and all I can say is that I'm thankful this popular meme hadn't come across my desk before I decided to skydive!

Since the bare-boned plane was at full capacity, Josh and his tandem were sitting on a higher platform than the rest of the jumpers (the area that should have been home to a co-pilot chair). In order for both he and his tandem instructor to fit, Josh was man-handled into his instructor's lap.  Yep, his instructor promptly hoisted Josh into his lap--- all six foot two, 200 pounds of my brother was heaved squarely onto another man's lap. Josh's face hinted of a prison movie. At this point, things started to get interesting.

The next inconvenience Josh faced was literal. As he waddled up to the plane's open door, preparing to thrust himself forward, he was greeted by a cameraman nearly 4 inches from his bearded face. Now would be a good time to let you all know that Josh and I did not purchase the video package.  Neither of us wanted footage of our cheeks flapping in the wind at 120mph.  Thus, the cameraman was an unwelcome surprise.  Josh spent all 60 seconds of his free fall:

1. fake-smiling at a camera guy
2. clutching his lace-less sneakers to his feet (in order not to lose his favorite pair of tennis shoes)
3. and trying to figure out where the whistling sound was coming from. [It took Josh approx 45 seconds to realize that I was not whistling for his attention, since it would be impossible for him to hear me make a sound at that speed. No, the whistling sound came from his faulty goggles. Just another mishap experienced by Josh alone.]  

When I jumped from the plane, there was no cameraman.  I could feel the rush of free falling without social pressure to laugh or smile. Oh and my goggles performed infallibly, in case you were wondering.

The next mishap is the best, if you enjoy awkward moments the way I do!
When you free fall, your job is to arch your head, back, and feet so that your body makes a U-shape in the air (as you see pictured here). This helps stabilize you and your tandem instructor as you hurl towards the ground below. The instructor's body mirrors yours, until he or she pulls the rip cord...... but not in Josh's case. Nope, for some reason Josh's instructor decided to straddle him while free falling at speeds of 100+

If I could have seen Josh's face, I'm sure it would've been an escalation of the aforementioned prison-movie concern. This move was full-fledged creepy and there wasn't a thing Josh could do about it. Note, that my instructor never mounted me during the free fall, he kept his body in a perfectly executed U-shape until the parachute naturally uprighted us both.

Josh and his tandem instructor, Jonathan

As soon as he was able to communicate with his instructor (chit-chat of any kind is impossible during the free fall period), Josh told him that the harness was cutting into his femoral artery.  The fella paused and then replied, "Uhhh, yeah. That's something a lot of people say. It just feels that way because the harness is pulling upward on your body."  Josh politely explained that he served as a United States Navy corpman (AKA medic) for six years and damn well knew the difference between a tight strap and dangerously decreased circulation in major arteries.  To which his instructor said, "Well, the harness isn't really adjustable while we're in the air."
Great. Just great.

While this was going on, my instructor released the toggles and let me control our chute. I was having a blast steering our parachute--- left, then right, then in 360 degree circles.  It was incredible! No wonder people get addicted to skydiving, the free falling coupled with the skill of manipulating and landing the chute is a lot of fun!

Josh wouldn't touch the toggles and steer his parachute, his pain was too intense.  The only thing he asked was that his instructor quickly land them.  This did not happen.  Josh experienced the same amount of flight time as me. He did, however, have the added bonus of landing uncertainty.... his instructor told him they could do a running land or a seated land but never actually told Josh whether he should prepare his body for a run or sit position.  At least the unskilled awkwardness provided by his tandem instructor was consistent.


I share this story only to share a laugh, as Josh and I did on our drive home that morning.  Neither of us have any regrets about the experience.  The fact that everything went right for me was splendid. And the fact that nearly everything went wrong for Josh just makes the experience more hilarious and memorable.