aging with purpose.

I am a senior, what?

I think this often as I come into contact with new people on a daily basis. This usually comes as a shock to everyone, including myself, that I am a senior at THE Brigham Young University.

 Do you know what that means!?!

I am old. yes. I am still unmarried. yes. I still do not cook gourmet meals. yes. but it has been-

THREE YEARS of meeting absolutely incredible, inspiring people.
THREE YEARS of challenging myself academically.
...of becoming an adult.
of self discovery.
of church callings.
of traveling.
of heartbreaks.
of running...and running...and running.
Three years of absolute bliss...well except for the times that weren't and then it turned out to be a time of much needed growth.

I feel very blessed to be attending BYU. Despite the challenging times, BYU has been an absolute dream. I am grateful for all those (my parents and grandparents) who have helped contribute to my education.

As a senior approaching my last year as an undergrad, my mindset has been quite different than it has been in previous semesters. I have a seed of desire burning within my chest, waiting and willing to do anything it takes to be successful in public relations.

This in part is due to higher level classes. My classes are picking up the pace and I am beginning to work with clients this semester. You know what that means, I AM APPLYING WHAT I AM LEARNING!

I feel experience is the best way to learn-just throw yourself in without the fear of getting wet.

I love my classes. I love my teachers. I love what I am learning. I love my whole HOUSE (CLAP). Yeah (stomp), yeah (stomp), yeah (stomp, stomp)...ok you get my point!

I feel, for the first time in my college career, I know why I chose my major.

When I tell people what I am studying, it is often accompanied with a crusty (scoul of confusion), followed by the question, "What is that?"

Well I will tell you, IT IS THE BEST MAJOR EVER!

This seed of passion was planted during freshman year in a general English class. We were assigned to work with Catholic Community Services (CCS), an organization working solely to help incoming refugees get on their feet and become self-reliant. We as students were assigned to blog about Sebastio Salgado's photography (photography solely focused on refugess in various countries) as well as our experiences with the refugees we met at CCS.

This class changed my life.

I found myself blogging on behalf of many individuals who didn't have a voice -- I was their voice. I realized then, in that semester, the power of writing and social media. What could be better than being an advocate for a company and message you whole-heartedly support? I do not know.

However, I would be a liar trying to sugar-coat this major if I didn't tell you public relations does generate disappointment and discouragement. It is a fierce major. By fierce I mean super competitive, cut-throat, every man/woman for him/herself type of major. Everything is public and up for criticism. Nothing is secret or private. Through this, I am learning to toughen up and learn from my mistakes.

Yesterday, was one of those days (a terrible, no good, very bad day). It was an absolute war zone. It was one of those days that I wonder, why did I pick such a major to dedicate my time and emotional energy to?

To combat this war zone, I did as any other girl on campus naturally does, I called my mom. Best decision-it never fails. She is wise. Sometimes it is just good to hear the sweet, positive words of affirmation from someone who loves you. Mother or no mother, it is good to hear that I am doing alright.

My mother has a way of putting things into perspective. Look how far I have come...just a year ago, I was wandering around trying to decide which major to study. Now I am in a nationally-ranked program, at a nationally-ranked university. I am one lucky girl. It is moments like yesterday that motivate me to be better. Mistakes will come and go but ultimately it is our response to those mistakes that matter.

After all...

Courage does not roar. 
Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow." -Mary Ann Radmacher

School is fun. Learning is rejuvenating. however, without passion, it is simply not worth it. As my mother told me, you will always go farther in life doing the things you love (heart>logic). Thanks mom.

My thoughts as of lately:

Although I am a senior heading into the Communications major at BYU this year, I have kept a low-profile when it comes to social media. I do much more observing than contributing. However, I feel I need to embrace my communication roots a little and become more involved again.

My sisters and I have vacationed home away from home this week to Arizona where my Dad is currently abiding temporarily for work. Due to the long car trips, low-maintenance agenda, and time set aside for relaxing -- my mind has been racing. My summer work schedule has been one speed: fast. Therefore, the little things such as good exercise, sleep and time to myself were the first to slip through the cracks. This past week has been a much needed break for many of my family members, myself included.

First conclusion: Thinking feels good; meditation is beautiful and therapeutic. It is essential.

I came across this quote on Pinterest, “women’s pornography” as my friend denotes it. However, I find many treasures on this beloved website like fun hair styles to try when I am bored or stunning wedding dresses I can refer to friends (my day will be someday… but until then, these dress ideas must not go to waste).  

It is golden and summarizes the thoughts that have been consuming my mind:

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

                                                                                                 -Elizabeth Kubler Ros

Beautiful people do not just happen. I love this. I look at my family, they have always been stunning and I definitely know why. When one of us is weakened, the others will pull their weight to carry them along this journey of life. Whether it is a simple text message, a phone call or an entertaining distraction-my family is amazing and I know why it is the central unit of the gospel.

When everything else becomes inconsistent in my life, it is family that remains constant. I am nothing without them.

The only way I know how to best contribute to my future family, and follow the example of my parents, is to become a beautiful person.

Beautiful people have a sound sense of self. They are happy and content with themselves, despite misfortunate circumstances, insecurities and weaknesses. Love for other people guides their thoughts and actions. Beautiful people don't need to say it, others just know it. I am grateful to be surrounded by beautiful people.

Cheers to all the beautiful people of the world.

The Sun Will Rise

  I haven't been at this for awhile, but it is therapeutic to write and therapy is just what I need right about now...

Well that's a lie, I do write, a lot. In fact that is all my day is consumed of, writing. I am currently writing for The Daily Universe. It is enjoyable. I LOVE IT!!! I am meeting lots of new friends. I am improving my writing skills. Looking cool carrying around my camera (well it is actually my mom's, if anything happened to it she demanded my first born-yup its her baby:) and a voice recorder to conduct interviews. I'm enhancing my resume, gaining experience with a student-run newspaper and slowly learning the ins and outs of the often daunting AP style book. 

Who would have thought I would write for a newspaper? I sure didn't.

Therapy.

    The thing about therapy is that it can be spontaneous, selfish, time consuming, charitable, loud or quiet. It can be as long as a week getaway or as short as opening the scriptures for five minutes. Therapy does NOT need to comply with others' rules or any sort of AP style book. Therefore, I am leaving the AP behind and writing, just to write.

Not only writing, but writing my thoughts.

    One thing I have struggled with as a journalist for the campus newspaper is not only the fact but the rule that I cannot have a voice! Complete objectivity is the goal. As a child I was taught to express my thoughts-->what I wanted, needed and believed! All of that is gone with a quick dash of an editor's red marker. I have had to eliminate my voice this semester, and ask my editors-IT DRIVES ME CRAZY (hence why I chose public relations-so I can be as opinionated as I so desire!-in fact I am paid to be opinionated-so there we have it!)

    I am convinced there is nothing better than being paid to be an advocate for a company or cause that I am passionate about!!! When I am passionate about something, I don't hide it. I only want to share it! Like my undying desire to dance with Celine Dion's crew for one of her vegas shows or my obsession with wearing horizontal stripes and a mustard yellow cardigan.

    However, the subject I am most passionate about, the thing that not only drives me to be a better person but motivates me to live is the gospel of Jesus Christ.I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and I'm proud of it.

    I think it is safe to identify something as not only a passion but a firm belief when it is the first thing we look to when something incredible has happened to us and the first source of comfort and strength when we have been rocked to our core. That is how I feel about my relationship with Jesus Christ.

    Often, it is during trials when we are reminded of our dependence upon the Lord. Trials are a painful yet efficient way to be reminded of our complete dependence upon Heavenly Father. My favorite scripture of the week is Alma 26:12:

 "Yea, I know that I am nothing; as to my strength I am weak;therefore I will not boast of myself, but I will boast of my God, for in his strength I can do all things; yea, behold, many mighty miracles we have wrought in this land, for which we will praise his name forever."

It is through this humility that we are healed. I feel the way Ammon does in this chapter, gratitude and appreciation for the Lord.

    One of my favorite conference talks at this time in my life is "Lessons from Liberty Jail" by Elder Jeffrey R. Holland. It is beautiful and I am reminded many times each day of these beautiful words ringing from this talk. Here is a little taste of the power of Elder Holland's words:

   "In one way or another, great or small, dramatic or incidental, every one of us is going to spend a little time in Liberty Jail—spiritually speaking. We will face things we do not want to face for reasons that may not be our fault. Indeed, we may face difficult circumstances for reasons that were absolutely right and proper, reasons that came because we were trying to keep the commandments of the Lord. We may face persecution, we may endure heartache and separation from loved ones, we may be hungry and cold and forlorn. Yes, before our lives are over we may all be given a little taste of what the prophets faced often in their lives......Whenever these moments of our extremity come, we must not succumb to the fear that God has abandoned us or that He does not hear our prayers. He does hear us. He does see us. He does love us. When we are in dire circumstances and want to cry, “Where art Thou?” it is imperative that we remember He is right there with us—where He has always been! We must continue to believe, continue to have faith, continue to pray and plead with heaven, even if we feel for a time our prayers are not heard and that God has somehow gone away. He is there. Our prayers are heard. And when we weep He and the angels of heaven weep with us."

   In times of heartache or trial, which they come in our lives one way or another, the thing that brings me the most comfort is knowing we do not have to do it alone.

Happiness is a choice. My mother's counsel has led me to make personal goals of things I want to do to be happy.

A few of my goals:

1. Take 15 minutes a day for myself to meditate (Hakuna Matata style)

2. Paint again.

3. Learn how to cook

(because my most often made meals include salad or pasta)

4. Become a better writer (in the process...a lifelong process)

5. Study the Book of Mormon

6. Open my heart

 (vulnerability, though it comes at a price, is worth it)

7. Meet a new friend everyday

8. Exercise daily (endorphins, they'll save you)

9. Find joy through the little things in life (i.e. reading a book, going for a walk, enjoying the sunshine, painting nails a wild, vibrant color).

10. Never settle

11.Be a better sister/daughter to the wonderful angels I call family.

12. Find myself.

Because music speaks to my soul. Kelly has been singing my ear off this week because I absolutely LOVE this song. Thank you to my darling sister who told me to listen to this song:

Let the New Year Begin...

Highlights of the New Year:

 Although we are only 15 days into 2012, many monumental events have taken place that must be documented.

Meet Brother Lemon.

He has been a good family friend to us. For the first time Bro. Lemon drove his light blue cadillac to our house to stop by for a visit. Although this may not seem monumental to most, it is a big deal. He is a gem and very loved by the Jackson girls.

The Green Bug is no longer.

Let me tell you about this car. When Rach and I turned 16-my Grandma and Grandpa surprised us with this precious, little guy (although this car is sentimental, we never officially named it-no name seemed fit for such a car). I learned not only how to drive in this car but how to drive stick. This car has taken me all through high school and the first two years of college. It has been with me through the finest dates, most embarrassing moments, and of course the summer days. No matter the stench of track bags after meets, potent lotion in preparation for cute boys:), or sunscreen for afternoons at the pool, this car ALWAYS smells of crayons. Anyone who really knows a Jackson girl, knows this car. It is very sentimental to me and it was definitely a sad day to say goodbye to him. The days of singing with the top down and the radio blaring will never be forgotten.

On a lighter note, I just began my first semester in BYU's Public Relations Program. To begin my PR endeavors I am writing for the Daily Universe, BYU's newspaper. I specifically write for the sports desk, track and field beat. I am PUMPED!!! Although it has been quite a task, I am enjoying the new friends I am meeting and the writing experiences I am obtaining.

Keep your eyes open Provo peeps...the paper is going to be bomb this semester.

I got a job!!! As many know, getting a job in P-town is like not regretting an early morning 8 o'clock class, possible but difficult.

 I work for this man, Professor Muhlestein. He was my professor in Israel and I am so grateful to be able to have this opportunity to work with him again this semester. Right now I am currently digitalizing film slides of archeological sites for a book he is composing. He has changed my life.

My Grandma turned 70!!! For my grandma's birthday, my wonderful grandpa Bill organized a surprise party for her of all her friends, family, and coworkers. It was quite a turnout and a wonderful night!

 Her first reaction to the large room of loved ones yelling "SURPRISE":

A little bit about my Grandma. She is one of the most beautiful women I know, inside and out. She is very involved in my life. She supports me in all of my sporting events, academic achievements, and church-callings. She is the woman who taught me my dark eyebrows should be two not one. The woman who died my hair brown for the very first time. The one to sew and create all my dance dresses. The woman who has taken me to places I would never otherwise have seen (i.e. New York City, Mexico, The Caribbean, California, San Francisco and most importantly Israel). Without her, I would never have had the opportunity to see the world in the light that I have. She is the most selfless, ambitious woman I have ever met. I am spoiled to have her as my grandmother.

Other roles and qualities:

She is a world-traveler, entrepreneur-boss of her own company, PhD holder, sky-diver, author of many books, and much MUCH more.  

Did I mention Elvis-lover?

IT WAS A PARTY!!!

WE LOVE YOU GRANDMA!!!

 

Also, I am lucky to have this boy in my life:

St. George Marathon

The St.George Marathon.

After 4 months of training, the moment finally came.

My journey.

After all of those early morning runs, hours cross training in the gym, attempts to make old, supportive shoes look good with skirts, and endeavors to eat healthy (failing cause), the moment finally arrived. My entire summer built up to this moment….THE ST. GEORGE MARATHON BABY!!!

I spontaneously signed up in hopes that this would motivate me to get back into shape. I often questioned this spontaneity many times, especially over the course when the practice runs went for several hours. Nevertheless a marathon was not going to be any easier in the future- seize the day right!?!

I must first express the anxiety of the week prior to the marathon that made this event more miraculous than it already turned out to be. After Rach and I endeavored on our longest run prior to the marathon, 20 miles, my IT band and my shins began to act up. What seemed like an easy 3 miles, turned into torture. I iced and messaged my legs several hours a day for the entire week building up for the big day. I remember vividly two days before the marathon I went on a ten minute jog, barefoot on the grass in a nearby park. I just sobbed as I ran thinking how this irritation and pain I was feeling running no more than ONE mile would escalate throughout the course of 26.2 miles. I researched and heard horror stories of how a little pain before a marathon could result in an entire season of no activity or worse, permanent damage. Of course, these fears I had built up over the span of the week wouldn’t stop me, I planned to run the marathon October 1^st and that is what I was going to do. After a week spent in constant prayer and a blessing from a few stellar friends, I was as equipped as I would ever be.

From this point on I knew this marathon would be running more on faith than physical stamina.

After several sessions of carbo-loads (which never seem to get too old) and an unexpected hour drive in the desert looking for the cabin we planned to stay in near the starting line, 5:30 AM never came faster. Gearing up with GU, ibuprofen, compression socks, a tape job by Tris, and a quick message with a little soothe I was ready to go. We all piled up in Tris’s car and headed over to the starting line. There were two large lights penetrating the night sky indicating where the starting line was.

I WAS SO EXCITED!!!!

I am convinced there are few better things in this world than race environments. There is so much energy and passion that it is impossible not to be happy and pumped for the endeavors ahead. People of all ages, sizes, and athletic abilities gathered behind the starting line.

The gun went off.

Ten minutes later we left. Pacing is an obvious skill to learn when running a marathon. With all the adrenalin built up from the start and the hours that went into this moment, I had to continually remind myself to set a comfortable pace. After all it is 26 miles.

The first 13 miles, I could not even contain my enthusiasm. It was wonderful. Rach and I were running at a good pace, I was feeling fresh. MY LEGS DIDN’T HURT. It was a miracle!! I couldn’t have visualized anything more perfect. I am so GRATEFUL for how my body felt. Medicine, compression socks, and tape are nothing in comparison with FAITH.

The miles leading up to 18 went fast. I knew once I saw the mile 18 marker everything would be ok.

Along the way, Rach and I met a new friend. He was an older man that has run 74 marathons!!! He taught me a valuable lesson.

He ran up to Rach and I and said, “Hey, take your earphones out you beautiful girls!”

Obviously a little started by his demand, but more so by his abnormal amount of energy at this point in the race, I turned to him to listen.

He said, “This is one of the best experiences of your life, live it.” He went into detail how with every marathon his favorite part wasn’t necessarily finishing, although that is definitely an accomplishment, but it was the amazing people he meets along the way. I could tell by his chipper attitude, he was definitely right. He was having a lot more fun than I was at that moment.

So I took one earphone out and listened to his stories for the next few miles (music speaks to my soul).

Mile 21. My body felt worked.  Rachel went on because she felt better. She did so good throughout the race. So encouraging, optimistic, and such a strong runner! Love her!

So there I was running solo. Although my legs felt ok, I felt weak. I attempted to stop to hydrate and catch my breath; however, I was given the advice to keep going otherwise I would lose my pace.

THIS IS ANOTHER LESSON I LEARNED:  LISTEN TO YOUR BODY!!!! Don’t let ANYONE else tell you how to help your body. EVER! Although I drank at almost every water station, when in doubt HYDRATE. When in doubt, LISTEN! DRINK, DRINK, DRINK AND LOAD UP ON CARBS.

I continued onward. I trekked it out until mile 24 where my body began to shut down. I refused to walk. My stubborn personality and desire to finish dominated all other aspects of my physical health. I have never felt so physically spent and exhausted. My eyes glazed over and I was fighting to keep my eyelids open. I was praying at this point that I could just put one foot in front of the other. I could see on the people’s faces along the sidelines that I was not looking in the best of shape. I passed up a few stations (mistake!) in order to keep going. My body was trying to walk but I refused.

Finally the straightaway. This is the sight I have been preparing to see since mile one. Only a few hundred yards and I would be there. Left. Right. Left. Right. I tried to focus on my steps because I couldn’t think about anything else.

All of a sudden my body gave out and I blacked out. I remember feeling arms around me carrying me and trying to pull me off the course.

I just yelled, “No, No please don’t. I have to finish. I HAVE TO FINISH!” They, who I was not at the time grateful for but now am, persisted to pull me off the street.

I woke up to paramedics asking me questions. They put me on a stretcher and into an ambulance. At this point I lost all sanity and just went crazy…another lesson I learned, I DO NOT DO WELL WITH A LACK OF OXYGEN IN MY BRAIN.

My conversations went a little something like this (spoken in anything but an inside voice):

“I AM NORMAL. WHY AM I HERE? HELP ME, GET ME OUT OF HERE. I HAVE THINGS TO DO! ON A PAIN SCALE, MY LEG FEELS LIKE A 7 OUT OF 10- SOMEONE RUB THEM!  I PROMISE I AM NORMAL; I DO NOT USUALLY ACT LIKE THIS. I DON’T EVEN HAVE DIABETES. I AM A RUNNER. THIS SHOULDN’T BE HAPPENEING TO ME. IF MY TWIN SISTER FINISHED, HOW COME I COULDN’T-WE HAVE THE SAME DNA DON’T WE? NOW MY LEGS ARE AN 8 IS SOMEONE GOING TO RUB THEM? AH I DON’T FEEL BEAUTIFUL!! THIS IS THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE! I HAVE HW TO DO. IF SOMEONE PUT THIS ON YOUTUBE, IT WOULD BE VIRAL I KNOW IT!!!  I WAS SO CLOSE, SO CLOSE!! DON’T MAKE ME GO INTO THE SICK TENT. I AM BETTER THAN THAT!

The paramedic said I was about 800 yards away from the finish line and said I was close enough.. I TOLD HIM CLOSE ENOUGH IS NOT FINISHING. I NEED TO FINISH.

I was having a mental breakdown at this point. They pulled me out of the ambulance in which I was then elaborating on my confidence levels. As we moved further toward the “sick tent” my confidence was decreasing because I could see people’s concerned expressions. I demanded them to cover me with a sheet but they insisted I would cause drama by looking like a corpse, I didn’t care. People were looking at me and laughing-it was then that I saw Rachel. I identified to the paramedics that was my twin sister. Then I also saw Spencer Anderson in the crowd to which I pointed at and established we had dated! Providence. I couldn’t have asked to see two better people at a time like this.

The conversations only went downhill from there (I will spare the details).

I need to remind myself I was extremely dehydrated with a temperature of 103. I obviously was lacking oxygen in my brain and therefore not coherent because I was nothing short of blunt and demanding, even rude (It was refreshing to be able to speak your mind with no restrictions I must admit). This was one of the hottest marathons St. George has held.  That would also explain why the “sick tent,” was overflowing with people in need.

They laid me on a bed next to a man also in excruciating pain. He definitely looked how I felt. There is nothing like being in that tent. Although running environments are one of the best, sick tents are perhaps one of the worst. It was hot and moist and body fluids were all over. And flies, there were flies everywhere smothering all the bodies on the beds and floors. People looked horrible.

After cooling me down, Tim rubbed my then growing charlie horse that I wanted and asked so many people to rub. I have never been in so much pain in my life… After a few threats to Tim’s life (which I can’t believe I would say) and declaring I would rather be in labor, it felt better.

My support system was more than I could ask for. My mom was rubbing my head as I was just sobbing not only from the pain but from the disappointment. I am so glad she came to watch Rach and I, I don't know what I would have done without her. Spencer, who I must say could not have been more kind and loving to me, just held my hand as they persisted to rub the knots and cramps out of my legs. And Rach, my comforting and supportive sister, was with me every second of the way constantly reminding me to drink water and to stop being so hard on myself.

They took the IV out of my arm and then my dream team support system helped me out of the bed, and began to walk me around the tent. After a marathon…I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO WALK!?! This is when the reality of it hit me.

 I felt embarrassed. I felt like a failure. The thought came over and over in my mind, what if I just ate one more orange or drank one more glass of water? As my temperature decreased, so did the reality that I didn’t finish. Although it was only a few hundred yards, it made me sad.

I am hard on myself which doesn’t make this situation any easier. With all the training and preparations I did, I never anticipated ending the marathon like this.

However, I have never felt so loved. In the midst of one my most painful and disappointing moments, I had more support and encouragement than I could have asked for. I not only learned more about myself, digging to the very depths of my soul, but about those I love.

I am proud of myself for pushing my body to such limits.

 Running is a passion of mine. It is something I really care about (enough to pass out for). Running is not only physically exhilarating but it is a very spiritual to me. Running is part of my soul.

However, sometimes it might not always be about the race. Sometimes it is about what you put in and get out.

I must say I definitely got more out of this experience than I put in.

Our greatest glory, consist not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall.
Oliver Goldsmith

Let the training begin.

THE DIRTY DASH

Picture this:

The beautiful, natural landscape of midway. Now put a 10k course along the hills among the changing leaves and grass. But not just any course. It must be a course fully equipped to make one completely and hopelessly in love with mud. Simply add several hay barrels, climbing walls, rope swings, and a gigantic water slide to finish it off-now you got a course worth running. A course known as the DIRTY DASH.

All my sisters, Daniel Wade, Ryan Jones, Janica, Dom and about 4,000 others all embarked on the muddiest adventure of our lives Saturday morning. Due to a really good connection from Red Rock, this enjoyable adventure came half-off. Ya girl!!!

People were dressed from business suits and wigs down to simply a white, baby speedo to truly enjoy the mud-lovin, battle-crazin course. Although I have participated in many races, this is unlike any I have ventured before.

We started the course by climbing a hill covered in slick, wet mud. It wasn't twenty yards until Dan got tackled by a grown-man in a speedo. Haha it was quite the sight to see two nearly half-naked strangers tackling each other in the mud. No shame I guess.

Around each corner of the race, there would be HUGE mud piles conveniently placed near a random obstacle. It was way too easy not only to be covered by mud but to be completely and hopelessly immersed in it.

The only apparent features of my fellow friends were the whites of the eyes and the mud covered smiles. We were laughing and yelling chants of a champion the whole course.

There was even one part of the race in which we all trekked through a marsh that smelt like the hippo exhibit at the zoo. It was SO fun!

By the end of the race, we all finished by sliding/running down a 100 ft slide into a pile of mud. We just layed there soaking up the mud with our slippery, seal bodies.

After the race, we slowly began to turn into crusty, mummified bodies.

Let us just say, a warm shower never felt so good!!!

Just lovin' the adventures of college.

Before.

After.

Getting the clumped mud out of the hair was the worst part of the cleaning process.

I am so happy I was able to run with all my sisters. 

Love my little sistas.

The Reality of War!

Support the troops.

What does that even mean?

Until this year, my perspective of the military and troops originated from watching Pearl Harbor on the days I stayed home from school with the flu. Every sick day somehow resulted in this movie preference. However, this foreign image become real this past year thanks to a friend by the name of Nick Mckean.

For a brief moment in time I got a glimpse of the life of a military family.

What an amazing glimpse it was.

Of course easy is not one of the words I would choose to describe this glimpse.

 I do not envy Nick's mother who not only sent her husband but now her son to the opposite side of the world to fight and defend what we often take for granted.

I do not envy the pain and fear that come with sending a loved one closer to the arms of danger. How could you? It requires selflessness not only for the soldier leaving but for the loved ones sending.

War is real. It becomes even more real when it becomes personal.

I never expected to have this type of experience. More than anything I have learned the essence of true patriotism and selflessness.

Something inside me has changed.

I never want to take for granted the liberties and freedoms I am blessed with.

July 4th means much more to me than candy at the parades and a few fireworks.

 I look at the flag differently.

The liberties we enjoy are not free.

 I am grateful to know our country is supported and defended by individuals like Nick.

Thank you Nick for teaching me what it means to be an American.

Before the military banquet.

His unit is deployed to Afghanistan for one year.

They have been training in Texas and New Mexico the past few weeks.

They leave for Afghanistan in a few short days.

"O Beautiful for Heroes proved,

In liberating strife,

Who more than self their country loved,

And mercy more than life."

-America The Beautiful