Fearless in New York City

What a difference a few years can make, right?

Eight-ish years ago, I visited New York City for the first time. I worked for my university's paper as the multimedia editor at the time, and was part of the crew sent to cover the first-ever Pinstripe Bowl.

While it was exciting to go on a free trip, it was also pretty intimidating to face the so-called concrete jungle just days after a blizzard. Yes, I had people with me, but they were just as unsure of everything as I was.

It was a memorable trip, but not really in the greatest of ways. We were out trying to find our hotel until two in the morning when we had to be at the stadium at nine. We only saw Times Square and the stadium. One member of my team had become my ex in the two weeks leading up to flying to NYC. I was assigned the most annoying intern of all time, who did exactly nothing I needed him to. On top of it, we lost the game.

It was a pretty miserable trip.

I remember standing on the subway platform, so freaked out, and not just because of the giant rats. We were all so lost and scared of all these imagined threats that you hear about in big cities. It was emotionally draining and exhausting.

Flash forward to this past week.

I was pretty nervous about heading to NYC alone and worried the past would repeat itself with another miserable trip.

But this time was so different.

Over the last couple years, I've latched onto the words "fearless" and "fierce" and wore a necklace with one of them when I traveled. I mean, when you arrive at midnight, you need whatever reminder you can get.

Not gonna lie, smartphones were a major help keeping me sane, but it didn't stop me from getting pretty anxious on the subway. The first couple days, I constantly checked my phone to make sure I hadn't missed my stop. It didn't take me long to get comfortable enough to read on the ride. However, the first time I tried, I got on the train going the wrong direction. I didn't notice until I had gone all seven stops. Oops. But, instead of fully freaking out when my GPS didn't work underground I figured out a couple alternate routes and made it work. I guess all that getting lost in Germany paid off.

It struck me around the third day that I wasn't walking around in fear. I wandered without plans or any real clue of where I was heading. I walked to where I was staying alone in the dark, and it didn't freak me out like it used to. It was pretty nice.

Isaiah 43:1-2 says, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."

The only time I was remotely nervous was when I was walking to catch a train and saw two guys getting into a fight ahead of me. We're talking ripped-each-other's-shirts-off-body-slam-on-concrete kind of tussle. It wasn't the fight itself that put me on alert. It was after their friend got them up and moving but they were still yelling at each other. Police pulled up and the boys refused to stop. I work in news, so I've covered too many instances of problems with police and unarmed black men to not be a bit skittish with that kind of situation. However, once I got closer, the friend was able to pull the two boys aside and talk to police, while I walked by. I hope that situation turned out okay.

Were there other reasons to be afraid? Probably. But instead, I got to experience an amazing week and see some incredible sights I would have missed had I stuck with the safe plans.

Bonus: so many people I met thought I was "impressive" "brave" and "badass" for doing something like that on my own, so thanks for the confidence boost, NYC!

Obedience Over Sleep

Yeah, yeah, yeah... I heard y'all. I haven't been writing much lately, and when I have, it's been depressing as balls. (Yes, I said "as balls." Deal with it.)

That's just the season I've been slogging through. Slogging might be too positive of a word for this situation. More like swirling around the drain of a death spiral with the occasional attempt to climb out of the stream, only to be nudged back into the flow... all while maintaining the "I'm fine" smile, because that's just what tough girls do.

But that's not really what this is about.

I timed out my day with plans to relax, get that illusive yet allegedly essential eight hours of sleep, go to the gym, then head to work. Easy peasy, right?

Wrong. I woke up about three hours into sleep time.

I tried praying, knocking off a couple items from the ever-growing to-do list, snacking, Facebooking, etc. Still wide awake. So, I grabbed the book I've been reading at the slowest possible pace, "Girl, Wash Your Face" by Rachel Hollis.

I'm a pretty fast reader, so spending a couple months on a book is incredibly unusual. The reason it's been taking so long is that pretty much every chapter is super relevant and convicting in some way, so I only make it through one before setting it down to stew and chew on it.

Today was no different. Of course, the first chapter I read (no, I'm not gonna tell you which one, sucker!) was directly related to that thing I was praying about. I kid you not. My brain went into overdrive thinking about her story and the similarity to mine, which I was so not here for. Hard pass.

So, I read another one to distract myself. Spoiler alert: IT MADE IT ALL WORSE. Now, my brain is all fired up on multiple things. Thanks for that, Rachel.

I tried to sleep it off, but that's just not how God works, is it?

Nope. He had to plant a some bloggable thoughts into my brain that were not going to go quietly. Here's how this argument went down.

God: *plants ideas*
Me: Cool. I'll do it later.
God: I've heard that before. You never wrote those posts.
Me: My bad. But, I'll really do it tomorrow.
God: No, you won't.
Me: I need to sleep! I work early tonight!
God: And?
Me: If I go write, I'll be tired and sucky at work.
God: I'll sustain you.
Me: But...
God: WERE YOU NOT LISTENING IN CHURCH SUNDAY? Didn't Koppang just preach about obedience?
Me: Yeah, but...
God: Okay, now you are going to write about obedience first.
Me: *Sighs and grabs laptop.*

Yes, I'm stubborn. Whatever. Don't act like you aren't too.

Pastor James' point Sunday was that obedience to the voice of God will result in a better life. It will solve your problems because you aren't doing things in your own strength, but rather relying on Him to guide you on the path He designed for you. Had the children of Israel obeyed, their lives would have been much easier.

Disobedience is pretty childish, isn't it?

How many times do you hear Christians saying that they want to be used by God, but then prioritize their own agendas over an opportunity to serve? Oh, so guilty on that one. How many times has that been you?

It's pretty hard for God to move when His people are being stubborn children who won't pick up their mess and share their toys. We can pout or throw a fit about it, but what ends up happening? I don't know many parents who will reward that kind of behavior. God is a Father who wants to heap rewards and blessings and goodness onto our lives because He loves us and we are His. But, He's a good and just Father, so misusing our free will can become a hindrance to our own blessings if we let it.

All He wants is obedience.

So, here I am, writing when I should be sleeping. (Well, my alarm just went off, but that plan to workout is now off the table! Ha!) I guess we will see how this obedience over flesh thing works out for me.

P.S. To the prayer warrior who, after the message on obedience, spoke over me that God would wake me up when I'm sleeping to talk, could you redirect that prayer with a better time frame? Please?!

Double Whammy: Losing Two Grandparents In Two Months

Pretty sure I've spent more time in Michigan in the last six months than the previous three years combined. Life is full of surprises, but this is one I could have done without.

Two months ago, I was sitting in this same exact seat writing about my grandmother (on my dad's side). This time, we buried my grandfather (on my mom's side) and didn't see it coming. He'd give me a spock bite and a slap upside the back of my head if I said much more than that on the internet, so I'll just say it was a really fast decline. Once again, I had a flight home booked to see a sick grandpa, but came just days away from seeing him again.

I went for a walk around the farm, thinking of all the moments I shared with him on that land. It's hard not to smile walking around that place. Every detail reminds me of my childhood, even more so because grandma insisted I wear his boots on the walk. At some point of their toddler-hood, every grandchild was placed in his boots and photographed while they clomped around on the dusty tile floor.

The fields have laid fallow for several years as grandpa aged and couldn't get around as well, but he taught me how to grow food there. I remembered all the times he'd hold me up in the branches of the mulberry trees so I could keep eating after I stripped the lower ones of all ripe fruit. I thought about the sledding we did into one particular valley. I'm not sure if the memory of grandpa losing his glasses in the snow is actually in my brain from that day, or from seeing the home videos. 

Grandma told me not to go all the way down to the river where he taught me to fish, since water levels have been high recently, but I walked along the ridge and saw it at a distance.  There are paths where I ran the horses and where grandpa and I hunted for mushrooms, even though I would never eat those disgusting things like everyone else. 

I laughed at the sheer number of rusted, old vehicles and machinery between the trees. I mean, he even still has his beat up red, Ford pick-up truck that we would co-drive around the farm, which he still drove. There is a picture of me as a toddler with my hands on the wheel of that thing. Now, it has holes in the floorboards and an empty pack of cigarettes in the seat that he'll never smoke. It's those little details that were like a punch in the gut. Things like opening his car door and being hit with the smell of his Marlboros.

Even more difficult is something I didn't have to experience with the loss of my other two grandparents: watching my grandma go through losing her husband. She's so lost and there is nothing we can do about it. We all thought she'd go first, so she was not prepared to be without him. This fall would have marked their 60th anniversary, so I can't even imagine the difficulty of this transition. She breaks down crying every couple hours. Seeing her sit in front of the casket and receiving his flag after the American Legion played 'Taps'... good Lord, I was not prepared to witness that. Over the past couple days, she's told me so many stories as we searched for one form in the file of his 25 year military career. (Side note: Grandpa was a stud in the Navy, both in looks and his top notch performance reviews. Haha!) 

Honestly, when my sister called to tell me he was gone, I thought it was a prank and he was finally getting me back for a sneak visit from six years ago. He promised he would get me back, and so help him if I ever tried that shenanigan again. He was so stern, but had massive soft spots for his grandkids. He expected big things out of us and was always there to help or teach us. From planting and fishing as a small child, to knitting as a kid, to driving (and using a gallon of milk to teach me not to slam on the brakes...), he was involved in so many aspects of who I am. I mean, he even encouraged my love of baking by paying me to whip up dozens of pies at a time, which my grandparents froze and ate throughout the year.

Grandpa checked in on my homeschooling frequently to make sure we were meeting his high standards. Grandpa and I spent a lot of time reading with me and stirring up the curiosity in me that turned me into a journalist. I'll never forget complaining to my mom about struggling with one of the literature selections. It was so boring, I kept falling asleep. Grandpa happened to be in town, so he said if he could do it, I had to suck it up and do it too. I've never been so happy to see him sleep! 

At the service, I met a woman my grandpa became close friends with over the last couple years. His latest project was beekeeping, and she helped him with it. When my mom introduced me, the woman gushed that she heard so much about me and that he was so proud of me. Yeah, I lost it. Hearing that someone with such high standards was proud of you, to the point of telling a stranger about you? That carries some pretty heavy weight.

Seriously, people. Don't take your grandparents for granted.

Don't mind me if you catch me crying over a Pepsi, Snickers or horseradish while listening to "meegoes." But Lord help us all the first time someone dares to call me "'Squirt", "Kiddo", or "Knucklehead" after this. Guaranteed, it's going to result in tears.

Note: I might swap some photos for childhood snapshots... if I track down those old albums..

Monte Sr.
11/23/37 - 4/13/18

     

Remembering Grandma Eunice

It's been a little over two years, but here I am again: sitting in what was my grandparents' home, knowing one is no longer alive. This time, it's my dad's mother, Eunice, but a different situation.

She had been slowly slipping away for several years. Dementia and Alzheimer's disease are jerks like that. It's been at least six years since I had a real conversation with her. Even that visit to Michigan was pretty rough. After answering the same question about 20 times, I started having fun with it. I may have told her I lived on the moon and on the ocean floor, knowing she wouldn't remember the answer in 15 minutes.

Grandpa laughed, but we all knew how hard it was on him to see his wife deteriorating like that. At one point, I was sitting at the table with both of them and she shared something nonsensical. Grandpa sighed, shook his head, and softly said, "Such a shame to lose such a beautiful mind." The sadness in his voice in that moment was something I don't know that I'll ever forget.

The last time I saw her at all was three years ago. At the time, the doctors didn't think Grandpa was going to make it, so the nursing home brought her back to the house. By that point, she wasn't able to talk much. She mostly sat in silence, and frequently confused her yes and no answers. It was hard to see.

However, I did get to see Grandma and Grandpa hold hands and stare at each other. They were both struggling with their health, but their love was stronger. 

When I went into that trip, I knew going in that it would most likely be the last time I saw Grandpa alive, and it was. Part of me also knew it would be the last time I saw Grandma, if only to preserve the memory of who she was, not the disease that dragged her away.

Was it selfish of me? Probably. 

But let me tell you about the woman I remember, because a good chunk of her personality is reflected in who I am now. 

I grew up hearing that I was just like Eunice. The unfortunate thing is, I thought it was a bad thing for many years. That phrase generally came after I had been sassy, bossy, or stubborn. (You know, those traits parents don't want their child to develop until after they've moved out, but are really inevitable when your firstborn is a redhead.) It wasn't until I heard Grandpa sigh about what was slipping away that I realized, he meant it as a good thing.

Grandma also frequently told me I was just like her. I really wish I paid more attention to the stories of her younger years which she shared when I exhibited something she fully understood. Unfortunately, those things fell on deaf young ears. 

Before I left for college, she gave me a little decorative pillow that I still have today. The gold embroidery on the cream cover said, "I'm not bossy. I just have better ideas." A smile stretched across her face when she gave it to me, saying it described her too, but I needed it to warn my roommates of what they were dealing with. 

It really hit me in her final months just how tough she was. She fought her way out of the hospital after a seizure and a serious heart attack. When my mom told me that they didn't think she'd make it through the night, I didn't think it was real because I'd heard that so many times before. She amazed the doctors with her strength and how long she was able to fight the odds. 

Being compared to someone like that? Well, that's pretty high praise. 

In a world where women are constantly told who they are supposed to be, she didn't care about stifling her strength to meet other people's ideals. She was fierce and fabulous, and told me it was ok to be so too. There's no doubt Eunice was a handful, but people loved her for it and in spite of it. 

I never doubted Grandma's love for me. She proudly and repeatedly told me that I got my red hair from her mother. We spent countless hours doodling on and cutting up piles of poster board. She was far more fashionable than me, so there were the shopping trips where she spoiled me rotten in an effort to fix that flaw. I'll never forget the day she bought what I called my "Rockstar INXS" outfit: a one-shouldered black shirt with a giant silver clasp, and jeans with hot pink stitching and studs lining the legs. (Don't judge. I was obsessed with the show and she just wanted me to be happy.) She made sure my dorm room towels matched my bedding. She sent me $5 every week during college to make sure I ate on Sunday nights when the dining center was closed. She tried to teach me to play piano, even learning a ZOEgirl song she'd never heard because it was the one I picked.

Now, she gets to sing all those hymns straight to Jesus. If there was anything she loved more than her family, it was God.

I'm glad she's free from fighting just to stay with those she loved so dearly. Eunice Marie was a spunky, unique woman, and she will be greatly missed.

Beginning My 30 Before 30 Challenge

Today is my half birthday.
That means I have 18 months left in my 20's, which is pretty crazy to think about. Aging is weird. I'm not sure how I feel about it.

In order to make sure I don't waste what's left of the decade, I decided to join a not-so-spiritual trend I've seen all over the internet: the 30 before 30 challenge. If you're unfamiliar with it, the goal is to pick 30 things you want to do before your 30th birthday, do them, and document the ensuing madness.

Creating this list was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I wanted it to be more activity and adventure focused, but considering time/money constraints and how much of my bucket list is already complete, it was pretty hard to come up with things. I asked friends for ideas, read dozens of other lists, and tried to think of things I haven't done so far in this life.

So, here goes nothin'.

1. Publish a book. I've started writing a couple, but never got around to finishing one, much less try to get it in print.
2. Get into Hall H. I regret not even trying to get into the throne room of nerd mecca last year. I have my pass lined up for San Diego Comic Con 2018, so this is the time to spend a night camping outside with strangers.
3. Go skydiving. Because, why not?
4. Create something and sell it. Someone offered me $75 for a calligraphy piece I did in high school, but my mom said no. It's haunted me ever since. Yes, I'm still annoyed.
5. Pay off student loans. Because I'm so over those monthly payments, obviously.
6. Cook through an entire cookbook. This could be quite the adventure from multiple angles. Who wants to volunteer to eat it with me?
7. Watch 50 of AFI's 100 best movies. I can't tell you how many times I've answered no to a question that starts with "Have you seen...?". Alex is pretty pumped about this one.
8. Learn a ballroom dance. Maybe I'll become more graceful. Maybe I'll just smash a few feet and fall down. I guess we'll just have to see.
9. Go to a national park. Somehow, I've managed to have not visited one so far. I mean, I saw the Grand Canyon from a plane, but I don't think that really counts.
10. Go to a book expo. Just another way to prove my nerdiness.
11. Read more classics. I loved them as a kid, but now I can't remember what I read or what they were about.
12. Go on a random road trip. With people or alone doesn't matter. Just hit the road and see what adventure awaits.
13. Get another piercing or tattoo. Things I've thought about doing for years, but just never got around to doing.
14. Learn basics of an instrument. Let's just say being the only one in worship classes who doesn't do anything musical was pretty annoying. Maybe I can be a little less tone deaf after this one.
15. Take a MasterClass. Those ads get me every time... especially the one with Shonda Rhimes.
16. Go ice skating. Another silly little thing I've never done.
17. NYC Comic Con. It's the only major US con I haven't been to.
18. Get my concealed carry permit. This is also on the 'things I've said I was gonna do for years but still haven't done it yet' list.
19. Go ax throwing. I mean, how much fun does that sound?! With a new place in KC, there's really no excuse to not go full Lumber Jane.
20. Take a kickboxing class. Again, sounds like fun and I've said I was going to do it for the longest time.
21. Visit at least one more continent. The ultimate goal is six continents (I have ZERO desire to freeze to death in Antarctica), but that might be a bit too much in a year and a half. Adding one more continent is at least a step toward the goal.
22. Go rock climbing. I'm not so sure I'll be any good at this one, but Maria insisted it needed to be on the list.
23. Learn to use the DSLR (and actually remember it for more than five minutes). I mean, I've gone over it a zillion times, but hasn't stuck yet, unfortunately.
24. Crochet something. Ditto previous statement. My poor grandmother has tried, but I just can't get past chaining. It's pathetic, especially considering how much I knit.
25. Scrapbook the European trip. I keep saving stuff to scrapbook, but need to sit down and do it. That trip was so wild, I need to get it down before I forget it all.
26. Take a Krav Maga class. As many rando creepers as I deal with, I should probably have more butt-kicking skills.
27. Go to an NFL game. I know, I know, I know. I'm disappointed in myself too. How this has slipped through my fingers is beyond me.
28. Finish an entire adult coloring book. I have a pretty good sized stack of them because they are so much fun. But, since they take so much time per page, I have a bunch of books with maybe two or three pages done. Gotta stop the cycle.
29. Explore my city. I've lived in KC for nearly five years and there is so much here that I haven't done, it's kinda pathetic. World War I Museum, here I come. If I happen to move in the next 18 months, this one transfers to wherever I live.
30. Do something that makes an impact. Now, I'm not talking 'be a part of something that makes an impact.' I get to do that all the time though World Revival Church. I'm talking start something that positively influences people. Figure out something crazy and go for it. This is honestly the most terrifying thing on this list. It's not about me. It's about the world at large and putting someone else first. I guess that is what that fancy Bachelor's in Ministry is all about.

I'll share updates on the adventures as they unfold. Wish me luck.

I am curious though. What adventures do you want to accomplish before your next age milestone?

Stuck in Funkytown and Hating It

Normally, I'm a lot more excited about January than I am right now.

I love dreaming up big ideas, setting goals and planning how to make them a reality. Call it the producer in me, but I live for that crap... just not this time around. I mean, it's about three weeks into the month and here I am, still struggling to come up with things.

Goals? Weak at best.

Vision board? Still not set.

30 before 30 list? Hahahaha! Right....

You'd think by now, after about five months of people asking "what's next?" I might have some kind of idea of what that might look like. The cold hard truth is, I don't.

And that is a pretty terrifying thought for a person like me.

I love spontaneity and all, but I really like having at least rough outlines in place or a general direction of motion.

Sitting here, feeling all adrift is the worst. I keep trying to figure out what the heck is wrong with me, but I haven't been able to pinpoint any specific thing as of yet. Maybe it's because I checked off so many bucket list items already. Perhaps the greyness of winter sucked out my motivation. There's that whole part where I've been questioning if I even hear God anymore after that one thing went sideways, so maybe that's the issue. There's also the possibility that I'm just a little chicken who is too scared to think big and outside of the box.

There's a 99.9% chance that the problem is all of the above.

What's interesting to me is how no one seems to have noticed that I haven't really been myself lately. Either I'm a great actress or they just assume I'll snap out of this funk soon enough. I'm hoping the latter is the more accurate guess.

If this seems whiny, I apologize. That is absolutely not my intent. This is just forcing myself to do something other than eat ice cream, read or knit. This is forcing my fingers to rattle of sentences that don't revolve around news of dead bodies or the hot mess blame game that is the government. This is an attempt to fire up that fierce spirit that chases dreams while screaming like a banshee instead of waiting for it to just fall into place for me. It's making myself take a step by acknowledging that I'm in a weird place. The first step toward recovery is admitting there's a problem, right? 

Seeing The Vision Become Reality In 2017

Remember a year ago when everyone was all, 'I hate 2016' and I was like the one person on earth who had a decent year? Here we go with round two. Hot take: 2017 wasn't that bad.

At least for me. 

Pastor Steve said it would be the year of opportunity. Time and time again, I saw opportunities to make dreams come true, and not just the little ones.

About two years ago, I set up a vision board in my room. I drew five things in the short term goals row. They represented getting back into WRSM, graduate, read 50 books in a year, travel to Europe, and write a book. The first four are now complete, and the fifth is in progress. That alone is wild enough to think about, but the way everything went down was more than I could ever imagine with other small goals getting check marks too.

I started a book club with my dear friend Rachelle, and it has grown from six women to about 50 members in our Facebook group. There's also a writing group now that I started with my nerdy friend, Rachel.

I got to work on two shows with WRC that broadcast internationally.

I met Felicia Day and Jim Beaver at Planet Comic Con, resulting in major geek outs.

I got baptized again.

I got to go San Diego Comic Con to interview several celebrities and sit second row for the Outlander panel.

I sat on the Iron Throne and Dragonstone.

I graduated with my second year certificate and Bachelor's degree.

I won my second Emmy.

I was selected for an international fellowship in Germany, where I met so many cool people.

I spent 35 days traveling Europe, knocking a big chunk off my bucket list (i.e. see the beaches of Normandy, filming locations for Game of Thrones, the Berlin Wall, eating donuts under Brandenburg Gate, the Olympic Stadiums in Berlin and London, the Tower of London, Churchill's War Rooms, Auschwitz, Bergen-Belsen, Castle Church, Trinity Library, the Mona Lisa, the Eiffel Tower, NATO, the EU.. the list goes on and on.)

I went to German Comic Con Berlin and was in a selfie taken by Finn Jones from Iron Fist and Game of Thrones. (Yes, I'm a huge nerd. Sue me.)

I saw bands including 30 Seconds to Mars, Skillet, Sick Puppies, Muse, PVRIS, X Ambassadors, Borns, Parachute, Switchfoot and probably others I forgot at this point.... plus ballets, plays, and sporting events.

I met amazing new friends and caused many a shenanigan with those already in my life.

I walked through fields of sunflowers, danced in the rain and played in the hail, both literally and figuratively.

It wasn't all easy. 

School was an absolute grind to finish, especially in the summer when two of my six classes alone packed in 32 papers. Not fun.

Also not fun, getting stranded in Hanover, Germany because the weather shut down trains. Really, trains and I had a rough relationship in Europe. Transportation in generally, really... especially when some dude tried to get me to go down a dark street in Paris with him at 3 a.m... Hard pass, bro.

2017 was nothing short of an adventure, and God stretched me quite a bit as the days went by. So many moments were tests in trust, from patience to protection to the big picture. I latched on to Jeremiah 29:11 in Europe, and I've been trying to hold onto that still. Just letting God do His thing is hard, especially when you feel like something is about to change in your life, but you don't know what. Trust isn't easy, but allegedly it will be worth it. I guess we will find out.