Hit and Run

On Monday evening, I was involved in a hit and run. 

In a matter of seconds, I went from staring down the road to staring at a concrete building that we had ran into. 

Had it not been for guardian angels, a seatbelt, and a huge Ford truck, things would have been vastly different. 

I was lucky. 

So, very lucky. 

The next day, I saw a doctor, just to make sure that everything was ok.

Before she even took me back, she made me get on a scale. 

Usually, I request to turn around so I don't have to see the number. 

For some reason, I always revert back to lower school, when we had to get weighed in front of everyone at gym class. 

As a young child, this was always my worst fear. 

Before I even had a chance to turn around, she said, "115."

And just to make sure I heard, she said it again, "115."

Got it. 

And then something happened, something unexpected. 

You see, even a year ago, that number would have freaked me out. It's not a lot by any means, it's just a jump from where I have been used to being. 

After I heard the number…(insert drumroll)….I brushed it off. 

WHAT?!?!?!

Yep.

I didn't obsess. 

I didn't think negative thoughts. 

I didn't plan a diet. 

I honestly didn't think anything about it. 

Walking away from what could have been a terrible accident will do that. 

Weight doesn't seem to matter as much when you are thankful to be alive. 

I called my mom after the doctor and said, "They told me my weight, and I didn't care."

This. 

This is HUGE. 

It's so easy to brush off small victories, but you mustn't.

Whatever it is, celebrate it. 

Whether it's that you drove past McDonald's and didn't buy a coke, or went for a walk instead of watching tv, or didn't buy those $250 shoes, or went swimming even though you hate wearing a bathing suit, or you put down the bottle, or you finally forgave yourself for something you did. 

I have always been a black and white person. 

Living in the grey has always been a challenge. 

But life happens in the grey/gray. 

I'm not perfect, actually far from it, and that's ok. 

I'm not where I want to be, and that's ok. 

I get it right, but more often than not, I get it wrong, and that's ok. 

If you never celebrate the little things, you are never going to be able to celebrate the big things. 

And the other day, I was able to celebrate being ok with my weight, and being freaking alive. 

That was a good day. 

When Goodbye Came Too Soon

I walked into the bathroom, stood there for a second, and walked out. 

A few minutes later, I walked into the bathroom a second time, stood there, and walked out. 

I needed a release. 

I needed an escape. 

Earlier in the day, I had found out about a dear friend's sudden passing. 

And I started to do what I used to do when I couldn't handle something. 

I tried writing a song, but nothing came. 

I tried calling my mom, but she didn't know what to say. 

I tried talking to God, but I couldn't make out the words. 

So I did what I could do, I ate. 

I met Ryin in 2008, at the Mercy Ministries home. 

She wasn't the biggest fan of me in the beginning. 

She was sarcastic, dry, more of a introvert, and I was an annoying blonde, bubbly, wide-eyed, big-haired extrovert. 

But I was dedicated to winning her friendship, and eventually, I did. 

If you could have a best friend at the Mercy house, she was mine. 

Every morning we would pretend we were anywhere but where we where, which was, Fenton, Missouri. 

We would pretend that we were having our coffee in Paris, under the Eiffel Tower, and then in California, over looking the ocean.

My favorite moments with Ryin were on our weekly Saturday morning walks.

For 45 minutes, we would talk about faith and struggles, doubts and fears. 

Ryin was like a rock, firmly planted in her beliefs, where as I, on the other hand,  was more like a leaf that gets tossed here, and tossed there. 

On one of our walks, we talked non-stop about the things we were thankful for. From salvation, to summer, to Starbucks, to sprinkles. 

When I wanted to leave the program, she told me to stay. 

When she wanted to leave the program, I told her to stay. 

After our graduation in the Spring of 2008, I lost touch with Ryin.

She moved back to Minnesota, I stayed in Missouri. 

Life happened for both of us, and distance made it harder to stay close. 

It doesn't matter to me how she passed, what matters is how her memory lives on. 

And when I walked into the bathroom for the second time, planning to do what I have done so many times before, I saw her face, and knew I couldn't go through with it. 

I owe it to Ryin to fight. 

To fight for my life.  

To fight for my dreams. 

To fight for my faith. 

Ryin left a mark on my heart, and a picture in my Bible.

The picture is of coffee, with a massive amount of whip cream (because she knew I was obsessed), and the following scripture:

"Thus says the Lord, He who created you…He who formed you..Fear not, for I have redeemed you..I have called you by your name; you are Mine. Because you are precious in My sight and honored…Even everyone who is called by My Name, whom I have formed, whom I have made" Isaiah 43: 1,4,7.

You and I both owe it to Ryin, and to many others, to fight. 

To fight for life. 

To fight for faith. 

To fight for dreams. 

To fight for futures.