time wasted.

starting somewhere...


the cursor blinks at the end of each word, reminding me that my time is continually running out. every second wasted is a second spent and paid for.

backspacing over things not quite what i'm meaning. erasing mistakes made by my fingers speaking with a mind of their own. consistent truth... i have nothing truly important to say, yet i have everything to say all at the same time. a plethora of gathered knowledge, some found on gum pressed sidewalks as homeless men beg for soda, others picked up in a pristine church with polished lobbies begging for something... anything... to scratch the surface. glazed footprints from a funeral, and savored heels from a wedding. the beginning is the end. at the same time that i'm breathing, someone exhales once more. Rest in Peace.

moment of silence...
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time can never be replaced-- there is no substitute.
time is all we have.




time is all that we're wasting away.

i have something to say...

i am speechless.

Bon' Appetite!

Sitting at dinner with my family yesterday evening, I watched as a woman walked into the restaurant with her son. She stood at the entrance, which was like a doorway from the sweltering heat into the cool air-conditioning, and she looked at the hostess puzzled. “Hello, I’m here meeting a party that’s already seated.”, she said. “Ok Mam, do you know where they are?” the hostess replied. “No, but it’s a rather larger party, (nervous giggle), I’m sure I’ll find them.” The hostess pointed her in the direction of the walkway, telling her to walk around the platform till she spotted them. So, the woman and her son began to walk around, slowly, looking confused as to which way to go. Each step was made with much caution, first, as to not draw attention to herself, and second, to try not to look as if she was searching at all. After a few seconds, she saw her party, of at least 15 people sitting across the room. All the sudden, her steps moved much faster, she straightened up her shirt, and put her hand on her son while pointing to them so he knew where to walk next. Laughing, she got to their table and I’m sure she began to make excuses for why she was so late to dinner.

Isn’t that how life works? As I watched intently this woman’s journey to find her friend, trying to ignore the fact that I was about to start chewing on the table to subside my hunger pains, I wondered about life. We’re all looking for something. We have a purpose, and all we want to do is find it. I saw a significance in this dinner story. Life, is like waiting to find your party at a restaurant. We arrive late, frazzled, wondering where to go next, trying not to look confused, but ready to sit down and eat. Walking into the restaurant, we’re freed from the heat that’s moving outside, as we feel the cold breeze. It’s the same way that we first decided that we even have a purpose. We decide to step out of the ordinary, and move inside to the cool air that’s comforting, while knowing we’re going somewhere that’s going to make a difference. We meet the hostess and tell her that she doesn’t need to put us at a table because we’re looking for our friends who’ve already been seated. Just the same way as we begin to see our purpose come about. We begin to realize that we have a goal, a journey if you will... something to push on till the end for. A reason to look around. Soon, we’re pointed in the right direction, but not told exactly where to go. We take small steps, so as to not pass them by, but still move very cautiously so we don’t draw too much attention to ourselves... (since this IS a personal journey after all.) We continue on, with our goal in mind, and realize it’s right in front of us. Now, seeing how close the end is, we put some pep in our step and move on much faster than before, no longer caring who’s looking, and meet our goal at the end of the pathway. Shaking it’s hand and explaining why it took us so long to get there, but still so happy to have finally met it. Life. It’s life. We give ourselves goals to meet, we set them before us to get us through. Once we meet up with them, we sit down, celebrate and rest for a little while, ecstatic to have made it. Not too much longer, we set another, to get us through the next stretch of life. 

However, there’s one section in that story that prolongs this happy ending. The part where the woman walks slowly, trying to not show people she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Why do we do that? Why do we care what people think of us? Everyone of us is trying to meet our next goal... so why do we let the bystanders in our life dictate how well “they” think we’re doing things? Sure, some guidance in life is necessary, which is what our “son” and “hostess” are for. Someone to point us in the right direction every once in a while, and someone to walk the road with us. Can we make a decision right now, to STOP caring what negative looks and cocky comments are being made about us on the way? We know who we are. We know what we’re doing. We have people who care about us walking the road, and people who are ready to throw a party once we make it to the end. Press onward towards your next goal, hold tightly to the people who are encouraging you, and for the ones who try to bring you down, walk faster, and flash them a cute smile. You know who you are, and you know how great that food is going to taste once you get there. Bon’ appetite!

spring pajamas. mrs. bailey's story.

As I sit in front of this computer screen, wearing a tear stained shirt, I'm contemplating where to begin this story. But, it's not so much as to where to start the story, it's more that I have to get it out one way or another. So, here goes...

A dear friend of my family, Mrs. Sara Bailey, has been a fighter and survivor of cancer of many years now. She took it one day at time, and constantly fought the battle. She is such a caring woman, friend, mother, and grandmother. She always wanted to see how I was doing, and what was going on in my life. Maybe part of the reason I grew close to her was because we had the same birthday. We celebrated our birthday on March 25th. She turned 59, and I turned 19. 40 years separated us, but by her spunk and outlook on life, you would never know that. 

Recently, Mrs. Bailey got sick again. Only this time, things didn't look so clear on the other end of the tunnel. My heart flipped over as my parents told me they were going to see her. I told them, "OK, I'll visit soon." But inside, I knew it would be different this time I saw her. And, for whatever reason, I couldn't bring myself to see her just yet. I put it off for a few days, and when my parents came back from visiting with her one night, my mom took me aside and told me that she was asking for me to come see her. Now, how could I put this off anymore? A woman, a friend to me, knew she was sick... and still... she wanted to see me. She cared enough to want me to be there with her. 

On Thursday, the day after our birthday, I stopped by the Bailey's residence. I walked through the front door, and I was hit with the smell of sick. Her beautiful house, now smelled like a hospital. She was laying on the couch in the living room, in a pair of blue snowman pajamas. She was facing the couch, so I couldn't see her face. Mr. Bailey welcomed me into the house with a hug, and told me to go say hi to her."Hi, Mrs. Bailey, Happy Birthday!" 

With the softest voice, almost like it pained her to get words out, she said.. "Oh, Hi Brittany, Happy Birthday to you too! You know, Brittany and I have the same birthday. She's 19 now," she told the woman on the couch sitting next to her. I was surprised. Half the time, my own grandmother forgets how old I am. She reached out to grab my hand. "How are you feeling?" I asked her. She said, "I'm ok, I'm just tired hun." Well, don't you know who walks through the door after me? Hospice. They had come to talk to the Bailey's about their services and what they offered. God, that was hard. To sit in a chair in the living room, and listen to them answer questions about the seriousness of her sickness that I was trying to pretend wasn't true. 

After about a half hour or so, which felt like much longer, they left the house. Debbie was the Hospice Nurse who had come. Although she was really nice, part of me wishes I had never met her. I went back over to Mrs. Bailey to sit next to her. My Aunt Alexis was there. She was cleaning out a shelf near the bathroom where she was going to put some of the supplies that the nurse dropped off. Making room in the closet for things like mouth swabs and soap made it seem like this was going to be much longer than any of us had expected. Who knew I could find comfort out of hospital supplies? But I did. Mrs. Bailey laid quiet on the sofa, whispering to me where Aunt Alexis could find the spring towels and shower curtain to put out. Hearing the chimes outside made Mrs. Bailey feel like she needed to start seeing butterfly's and flowers around the house. I told her that her pajama's looked so warm, but maybe it was time to switch to some flower p.j.'s. She agreed. "I'll go find you some nice spring pajama's and i'll bring them to you, ok?" She smiled. "Ok, Mrs. Bailey, I'm gonna' go and let you get some rest ok. I'll be back soon with some spring pajama's for you!" 

Like usual, Mrs. Bailey insisted 5 or 6 times for me to "Please drive careful!" As I left the house, I thought, where can I find her these PJ's? It's almost like, in my head, I pretended things would be ok. By bringing her some spring pajama's, I would make it all better, she'd jump out of bed, and start making some lemonade for everyone. I don't know why my mind thinks that way. It always does though. 

Saturday evening, I was celebrating my birthday with Dean. We went to see a movie I couldn't wait to see. We we're having a good time, being ridiculous of course. We decided to go get a movie at Blockbuster afterwards. I was driving to Blockbuster, since I insisted on driving that night, and for some reason, I drove home instead. And, for some reason, I drove up the grass and caught my mom's attention in the window. And for some reason, Dean said, "I thought we were going to Blockbuster." And for whatever reason that I drove home first, and for whatever reason I drove up the grass, and for whatever reason I caught my moms attention in the window,... I called home. "Dad, sorry, I drove up the grass so I didn't block the other cars in, and I caught mommy's attention in the window, so I wanted to let her know it was just me so she didn't get scared. I'm leaving though, to get a movie with Dean at Blockbuster." 

He replied, "Oh ok. That's fine. Hey Brit, Uncle Ed and Aunt Alexis dropped off the kids here. They're staying the night." I got sickly quiet. "Why..." I said. "Because, Mrs. Bailey isn't doing good. They called Hospice in." I sat in my driveway, and stared. How could this be happening. I just forgot how sick she was for a minute, and then.. for whatever reason.. those list of events happened that made me have to call home, and by calling home.. I found out that Mrs. Bailey was failing. As I drove onto the road, I started chanting something under my breath. "Please God. I have to give her the Pajamas. Please God, I have to give her the Pajamas." I must have said it 30 times because Dean reached over to my shoulder to console me. I don't remember the drive to the movie store. I just remember leaving, and pulling into the parking spot because Dean said, "Brit, are you gonna' go over there tonight? Because, maybe you should." I knew I had to. 20 minutes later we we're back in the car with no movie. I asked if it was ok if i ran to the store to look for pajama's. I hadn't gotten them yet, being as I was pretending she was ok. 

Coming out of the store, with the only pair of pajama's I liked, we got back into the dark car and sat for a second. I put the bag in the backseat, that had the light green pajama's with roses all over them scrunched up inside. "Can I go now?" "Yeah, let's go now, he replied." Pulling up to the Bailey's house some 15 minutes later... I braced myself, took a deep breath, and walked up to the door with the new folded pajama's in my hands. I was greeted by Aunt Alexis and Trina, her sister. They both gave me a hug with their red faces, and smiled and said you can go talk to her, she can hear you. This time, the hospital smell that filled up their house was overwhelming. I was proud of myself, I was really holding it together. Which was probably un-human, with the way she looked now, from the way she looked Thursday. I was staring at her, wondering what went wrong in the course of one day. "Are you ok?..." Aunt Alexis whispered to me. "Don't ask me that." I said, as I turned around and started to cry. It didn't make a difference as the room was filled with tears long before I had arrived. 

Standing by her bedside, holding her hand... watching other's come over to her and do the same. Some would just stare at her from across the room and start crying. Some were shaking their heads. It was a terrible feeling, to watch life being taken from someone, but at the same time, comforting knowing they could still hear you. I didn't think so at first... But let me tell you why I know she could still hear us. 

After an hour and 15 minutes, I started to say goodbye to the people in the room. I made a joke about how I had to get home and take care my crazy cousins, probably destroying my house. I walked over to Mrs. Bailey, and kissed her head. "I love you..." I said to her nice and loud to make sure she could hear me. "And, don't worry Mrs. Bailey, I'll drive safe." They people in the room laughed. They all know it's what she was saying to me inside. As I shut the door behind me, I barley made it to the first step before I was overcome with pain. I broke down, just weeping for her. I couldn't believe that was it. I just knew it. 

I made it down the many steps to the side walk, and stood by my car, as my heart was breaking into thousands of little tiny pieces. Like the drive there, I don't remember the drive back either. I just remember pulling into my driveway, throwing open the door and getting sick by the curb. The emotions just overwhelmed me to the point of getting sick. I walked through my front door, to be greeted by my parents. My dad, came over to hold me as I was crying. He had the phone in his right hand. My mom came over to the kitchen too, and asked me a few questions. I answered them, and then she got this look on her face and looked at my dad. "Brit, Uncle Eddy just called." I thought I was going to throw up again. Oh God, this can't be happening. Please God... there's no way. "Brit... Mrs. Bailey died 5 minutes after you left. I'm so sorry." 

WHAT? Wait God, what the heck is going on here? How can this be happening. I prayed the you'd keep her till I got to bring her, her spring Pajamas. And 5 minutes after I leave, you take her? WHAT? I'm so confused. My head is spinning now, it feels like a marching band crammed inside and is playing their finale inside of my brain. "OK God, so you're telling me.. that you did exactly as I asked?" I couldn't believe it. What I had prayed so hard for, happened. I prayed, 'Please God, I have to give her the pajamas...' a thousand times, and 5 minutes after I leave, she's gone. I can't comprehend how God let her know when I was gone, so she could go to heaven. The fact that she waited for me to leave is unbearable. Why? Why was I so special that I got what I asked God for? Why was I so special that she waited for me to go first?

The pain of Mrs. Bailey's leaving is so great and heavy. But, I know that she heard every last word I said, and I know that God was in that room with her. And to know that God was standing in the very presence of me, is something I can never forget. To know that God answered my very prayer and to watch it happen is so overwhelming. My head is in circles trying to understand what just happened. Every little random thing that happened last night, happened so I could find out she was sick, and so I could give her, her spring pajamas I promised. 

To know Mrs. Bailey was to know an amazing woman. I will always know that I was there right before she went to see Jesus. To have that feeling is amazing. To have a prayer answered by the hands of God himself, and to see it happen right before your eyes, is an incredible thing. 

WE LOVE YOU Mrs. Bailey.

spilled spaghettios.

I was at work today, and I could barely concentrate on the task ahead of me. For the past few months, I have been working full time as a preschool teacher, volunteering in countless things at my church, and I had also started up the College application process, for the second time, mind you. Although things have become stressful, God has continually blessed me with my finances. I've paid all my bills on time, been able to use my own money for things at church and with the youth, and tithing has been steady. This week, my car is falling apart, and college bills are beginning to accumulate. Today, I'm realizing that where I'm working, I'm not going to make enough money to buy a new car and be able to live and continue to support myself in college come the fall. The stress has been adding daily, and my prayers are always increasing. And then... I stopped myself. "Breathe Brittany, breathe..." A verse came into my head as I watched a little girl in the class I teach spill her Spaghettios all over the lunch table. Matthew 6:34, "Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself." As Americans, we are so programmed by society to think ahead, look to the future, prepare for the worst. And why? WHY do we continually stress over things that we cannot change. I can't make my college tuition any less, I can't keep my car running any longer, and the Lord knows I can't get my boss to pay me anymore... I've tried. God knows what is going on in my life. He knows that my tomorrows are full of enough trials of their own, than for me to stack today's apprehensions on top of it all. If I choose to get myself into a frazzled mess, it's not going to make any of my troubles lighter for today. Let's try to live by this truth; let today's worries be in God's hands, and our stresses and fears of tomorrow will take care of themselves. So, whose up for some coffee??