The Road To Nashville Is So Easy It's Scary

So... Life update for those who don't already know: I'm moving. To Nashville. Tomorrow.
For some, this seemed like a sudden move, but it wasn't really, if I'm honest.

I've been thinking about my next move for a while. In my 'day' job, it's normal to do your two years and move on to a bigger city, so staying in the same place on the same crappy shift, it's a bit unusual. I stayed for Bible college, and then I stayed to keep my spot in the German fellowship. This time, my contract and lease ended on the same day shortly after my car registration expired, and I didn't have an anchor holding me here. I had been in the early phases of seeing someone, but prayed that if God did want me to move, then the distracting boy needed to go. Three days later, he had a girlfriend and it wasn't me. (One day, I'll learn to stop using that prayer! Lol.)

The focus in on Nashville started back at BookCon in early June. I was in line for a signing and ended up chatting with a publicist who had a shared background. I mentioned my recent-ish graduation from Bible school and her jaw dropped. "Have you thought about moving to Nashville?"

Click.

It's hard to put into words, but it felt right in the deepest parts of me. People have mentioned a variety of cities they thought I should check out, but nothing ever resonated like that mention. When I got home, I got distracted with other offers and the aforementioned boy popping up out of nowhere again. When one of the pastors mentioned thinking I was distracted (however, it was in reference to thoughts of leaving), that's when I had the realization that staying was the distraction because it came with the easiest bait there is. However, this was all right before San Diego Comic Con, so I was buried in research and couldn't think about my future at the moment.

A couple weeks after returning to KC, the pull to Nashville hadn't burned off like I honestly thought it would. Over ice cream, a close friend encouraged me to at least try and know instead of sit in the what ifs, so I did.

Of course, I soon had another offer to stay put, but I couldn't do it. I prayed for the right path to be a quick and easy one. Well, it was about three weeks from application to offer with my soon-to-be supervisor out of town for a week, and news director out the next, so yeah, quick and painless.

Even after all that, I've still been dragging my feet. I know in the deepest part of my spirit that this is the right move, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Kansas City has been a part of  my life since I was 8 years old. I haven't lived very far from it since. My friends are here, and some of those friends are more like family (some are closer to me than my blood family.

Even though I knew all along that KC wasn't a forever stop, it doesn't mean I ever dared to picture my life in another city. Even now that I'm forced to face this reality, it still doesn't feel real, not even while loading my car.

During one trip lugging a box to my trunk, I stopped and looked at my door. I have a pink chalkboard there, which has had the same verse written on it since I was going through a tough time back in February. Jeremiah 29:11. "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'"

I don't know the plan right now. This is a blind move. I don't really know anyone in Nashville. I've never really been there aside from a pit stop for food on a rowing trip. I haven't been to my workplace. I picked an apartment blindly. This is all so incredibly unknown and it is terrifying.

But, when God tells you to go, you pack up your car and you go, and trust that He will keep His promise of plans for good and not harm. I really wish I knew what I was heading into, but I have a feeling, if I could see what was ahead, I'd still be trying to run the other way. I'm just that stubborn sometimes.

Successes Are Unique: An Open Letter To Women

Ever scroll through Facebook and end up feeling like you aren't living the correct way? (If your answer is no, be warned I'm probably not going to believe you.) 

My newsfeed is a seemingly endless stream of relationship updates, engagements, marriages, and baby announcements. Don't get me wrong, I'm 100% thrilled for my friends making these big steps in their lives and this is not a Bitter Betty post at all. My issue is how these types of successes trigger so much FOMO and self-doubt, especially with single girls.

Heck, I realized this when I posted about my latest (surprising) Emmy nomination, then scrolled Facebook. A couple friends announced pregnancies, their sparkly new diamond rings, and one single friend is buying a house. You know what my crazy brain told me? They are doing better at life than I am. 

I had to stop myself right then and there. Why do we immediately jump to ranking our successes? We act like there is only so much good available in the world and everything is a competition. Spoiler alert: it isn't. 

Life doesn't have to fit into a mold, but so many of us try to be like everyone else. If everyone is doing it, it must be the best way, right? How about not. History is filled with brave women who scandalized the world so that now we can wear pants in public (hallelujah), fought for our right to vote, and pushed forward in the workforce so that ladies of today have options to do whatever the heck they want with their lives. There is no shame in being a stay-at-home mom if that's what you want to do and what works for your family. But there is also no shame in staying happily single and using that time to live your own life first.

I'll never forget the first time I heard that. I hadn't seen a co-worker in a while, so we were catching up. This older woman smiled at me and said, "I'm so proud of you for living your truth now. You're making all these memories and one day, when you're nursing your baby, you aren't going to look at that child and think about all the things you're missing are resent that baby. You're going to smile knowing you have so many stories to tell them and they are going to brag about their cool mom." It's so true. My mom had me young, and as a kid, I knew she loved me but I  could pick up on those underlying notes of resentment about the things she never got to do. Maybe that's why I'm so determined to live for myself first.

Again, do not misunderstand me here. This is not a slam on young moms or anyone at all, and the fact that I feel the need to clarify that repeatedly shows just how deep these roots of judgement go between women.

THIS SHOULD NOT BE A THING. Period. Yet, it is, especially in the Christian community, and it drives me crazy.

For some odd reason, women in the church get their identity all twisted up in their relationship status and being a mom. I've seen it time and time again where a girl feels less-than because she is single or doesn't have any kids. As someone who grew up in the ultra-conservative homeschool world, I've lived it, and despite my 'tell me what to do and I'll do the opposite' streak, that standard still stings. 

I've watched my friends get married to the wrong people because of the pressure to settle down and start families, only to end up divorced a short time later. I've stayed in terrible relationships because it was at least something, right? I've suffered through the 'pep talks' telling me he is out there and 'it's just taking a while because you're so awesome, he needs more time to get ready for you.' (Side note: please DO NOT be one of those people. It makes single people feel exactly zero percent better when they are lonely and worse when they are actually enjoying their lives.)  

Ladies, we've got our identity in the wrong place. 

Relationships, family status, job status, bucket list, or whatever else you can think of do not define you. The only thing that matters is who you are in God.

Maybe that's what bothers me so much about this whole thing. Women tend to forget that God created us with a purpose. So many ladies get caught up in complaining about being single instead of using that time to do their God-given mission. I heard comic book writer, Marguerite Bennett, who is about my age say, "I'm never going to have as much time as I do now." She's busting her butt now, working on as many projects as she can, because she is single and without kids. She is treating this window as the gift it is.

In church, we hear all the time about stewarding our gifts and how God won't give you a big task if you don't prove yourself faithful in the small things. Single ladies, maybe there is something for you to do now or something to prepare for that God made a priority on your life over being a wife and mom. I can tell you right now, I've probably prolonged the single life because I haven't been working on projects I know I'm supposed to because I let other things become distractions. I have not been faithful with this blog, for sure. I can't tell you how many times I've had thoughts on a post, but didn't get out of bed because I should get rest. Julianna Zobrist has a wonderful quote: "Don't should on me." The thought of I 'should' sleep stops me from writing all the time, even though I know that when I have something to say, I really don't notice missing those hours, like God gives me the energy in exchange for obedience.

"Don't should on me" also applies to all this girl-world comparison, and that's really the point in Julianna Zobrist's message. There is no set path for every single person. Success is not something to be ranked or used against each other. We are all created to do different things. We aren't made to live the same life as anyone else. Our journey is as unique as we are and that should be embraced, not held against each other or used as fuel for a guilt trip. 

I recently met up with a college friend, and let me tell you, it was so refreshing to talk about goals and dreams instead of focusing on dates and relationships. That was maybe five minutes of our three hour conversation, and it struck me how unusual that is, even among chronically single girls. We don't need to focus on who our friends might be interested in or 'we need to find you a husband' banter. That can end up causing more damage to a relationship when someone feels judged. 

Celebrate whatever success looks like for your girls and encourage each other in their dreams and passions.  Don't drag your 'shouldas' and 'shoulds' into any kind of relationship. Your single years are the time to be selfish and enjoy the heck out of it. Grow as a person. You are a treasure, so polish yourself up so you can shine like you were always intended to, wherever your unique path leads.

30 Before 30 Challenge Update (AKA It's My Birthday)

Dang. It's my birthday again. Crazy how time flies and how much life changes in just one trip around the sun. I've accumulated a mess of stories in the last 365 days, both good and bad. I earned my 3rd Bachelor's Degree and finally made it to Europe as a 28 year old. I met some big name stars and spent time with the stars in my life. Through it all, I gained a lot more independence and confidence, and learned more about who I am. I may not always fit into this wild world, but I'm okay with that most days. People come and go, but the ones who are meant to be there will stay.

Now for the promised update! It's been six months since I started the #30before30 challenge, so here's a little update on the adventures and what I still need to do over the next 12 months.

1. Publish a book. Yeahhhh... I've made zero progress toward this one, sadly.
2. 

   Get into Hall H. I This one was actually a lot easier than I thought, even with my cheat. I used my news cred to get a reserved seat for the Supernatural panel, so I kinda cheated, but I also waited in line with my sister for a couple hours so she could get in too. No camping required.
3. Go skydiving. Nope.
4. Create something and sell it. Haven't really made time to be creative, really. Other than knitting.
5. Pay off student loans. In progress.... still....
6. Cook through an entire cookbook. In progress. Picked up Joanna Gaines' cookbook and made exactly one thing out of it: banana bread.
7. Watch 50 of AFI's 100 best movies. I don't think I've really started this one. I mean, thanks to MoviePass, I've watched way more current movies, but I can't think of any being on the list.
8. Learn a ballroom dance. Nope.
9. Go to a national park. Happy accident! While in San Diego adventuring with my sister, someone told me to check out the Cabrillo tide pools. Turns out, it's a National Park. Not what I had in mind, but I got so sunburned, my arms looked like "ground chicken" from all the blisters, so it counts.
10. 
    Go to a book expo. Book Expo America and Book Con in NYC... check! Met bunches of authors and came home with 84 free books, so I guess I'll call that a win. ;)
11. Read more classics. I have finished 35 books so far this year.... but none are classics. Fail.
12. Go on a random road trip. Well, technically this happened... just not how I planned. I envisioned traveling somewhere on a whim for fun. Instead, I ended up driving back to Michigan for the first time on about 18 hours notice because my grandma died. It is the longest drive I've ever made, and completely unplanned, so therefore, a random road trip happened.
13. 

    Get another piercing or tattoo. Got my nose pierced in February and I love it. It's funny how many people thought I had it for years or didn't notice until I put in a bold turquoise hoop. Heck, I even got away with wearing it on tv.
14. Learn basics of an instrument. Nope.
15. Take a MasterClass. Nope.
16. Go ice skating. Nope.
17. NYC Comic Con. Pending... Approved, but hasn't happened yet. October, here I come.
18. Get my concealed carry permit. I might revamp or swap this one out since it's not really necessary in Missouri.
19. 

    Go ax throwing. I am totally in love with this one. I'm not great at it yet, but I know we are gonna keep trying.
20. Take a kickboxing class. Not yet.
21. Visit at least one more continent. Sadly, nooooo. The wanderlust is so real.
22. Go rock climbing. Not yet.
23. Learn to use the DSLR. I mean, I've used it and snapped some great pics, but don't ask me how or why.
24. 
    Crochet something. Did a couple granny squares with my granny. I don't know which was worse: my crochet ability or my grandma's slams about my suckiness. ("Are you sure you graduated college? You don't know how to count." lol)
25. Scrapbook the European trip. I bought the books and picked pictures to print... so progress?
26. 

    Take a Krav Maga class. Krav was so much fun, even with getting a black eye! Definitely need to go back, it my schedule would ever line up with the class times!
27. Go to an NFL game. Fall is coming... Football is coming.
28. Finish an entire adult coloring book. In progress, about 15 times over... oops.
29. Explore my city. I made it to River Market for a short walk, but that's about it that I can remember.
    
    
    
30. Do something that makes an impact. Still trying to figure this one out.

There's just one more year left in my 20s and who knows what will happen next, but here's to jumping into the next adventure and whatever challenges may come.

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.