Miss Kathy

As a little southern toddler growing up in New Orleans, I’d occasionally slip and call my Aunt Kathy “Miss Kathy” – and she loved to remind me of that story.

Back in 1948, my Oma (grandmother for you non-German speakers out there) gave birth to her first child, a little girl. Nope, not my mom. My aunt. Growing up, I would hear stories about my mom and her sister, making me all the more desperate for a sister of my own, convinced I was missing out on a key life experience. I loved to hear the stories Aunt Kathy would tell about my mom (nothing salacious here, mom continues to be difficult to live up to!) and vice versa. Despite some hilarious sisterly bickering (AK would later in life admit that she was so terrible to mom as kid!), they became the closest of friends as the only girls with 4 brothers.

AK & Opa

She had a way of telling a story that sucked you in. It wasn’t just the words she used, but the inflections in her voice, the pauses in her sentences, and the expressions on her face. Occasionally, I’ll catch myself using a similar inflection or intonation when telling a story, and I always laugh inwardly, knowing where I picked that up. Her story-telling and ability to recount so many tales made sense – she was a librarian.  I remember her giving me the “top secret” passwords to the online resources of the high school library where she worked to aid me in some of my research in college.

I don’t think I ever told her my secret dream about becoming a writer. I wish I had. She would have been one of the first people I would have run to with my finished manuscript and asked for her brutally honest review.

Uncle Drew & Aunt Kathy

She (along with my dad), made me enamored with history. I have always been fascinated by people of that generation who lived through the Vietnam War. After she told me the story of her fiancé who was killed in Vietnam by a sniper, I did an oral report on him for school. I asked her a million questions. She told me stories about visiting West Point, and when I went to visit friends of my own at West Point, I excitedly returned and we huddled as I showed her photos from my trip.

When I went to college in Ohio, she made sure I had a supply of yellow smiley face cookies from Buskens – she told me they were to help me make friends. I never knew if I should take offense to the fact that maybe she thought I needed cookies to make friends ☺  And when I was rushed to the hospital one night in Oxford, with my parents 6 hours away, Aunt Kathy and Uncle Drew were there in a heartbeat, taking care of me, getting me back to their house, and keeping watch until my parents arrived.

She took such an interest. Not just in me, but in everyone. Was she really interested in the minute details of my daily grind in the consulting world in DC? I can’t imagine. But she always asked questions and always took an interest. She sent my dog birthday cards. Let me repeat, she took the time to send my dog a birthday card (because she knew, of course, that Fern was basically my child).

When Aunt Kathy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 4 years ago (after beating breast cancer nearly 20 years earlier), for a brief second, time stopped. I waited to wake up, to let the other shoe drop and find out that it wasn’t really what they thought.

Me, AK, & Mom - kicking pancre-ass ;)

Amazingly, God gave us nearly 4 more years with her – far longer than the average prognosis. We had more visits, more family vacations, more weddings, marshmallow guns, cupcake hats, shopping sprees, and Thanksgiving dinners. More time to hear more stories.

Even when she was at her sickest, I always pictured her at my wedding one day, always pictured her at future family events, even though the suppressed logical part of me knew that wasn't likely. Four months later, I suppose our family is still adjusting to our new normal. I can't truly do justice to AK in writing - perhaps I may never be able to. There is an inclination to make people out to have been saints after they pass away. So let me just say that she was an amazing, beautiful, wonderful person, and if you didn't know her, you missed out.

66 years. It seems like such a brief sprint. But when I think of all she did, all she saw, and all those whom she impacted during that time, it is incredible. It inspires me to live fully the way she did, and especially, to never stop learning.

AK, Oma, & Mom

Happy birthday, Aunt Kathy. We love you. Have fun celebrating with Opa. 

You don't need to wait 20 lbs to start loving yourself

I had dinner a couple nights ago with two former coworkers.  Within the first three minutes of arriving, one of my friends had told us that she has lost ten pounds - in two weeks.  I’ll also mention here that this friend doesn’t need to lose a pound. She is - and has always been - quite thin, but healthy. But that’s not the point.

In these situations, there is only one socially acceptable response. “Oh wow, good for you” “That’s so great!” “How’d you do it - you look fantastic” - and the like.  So…why do we do it? Are we as women really so insecure that we need to make statements which will elicit predictable responses just to build up our self-esteem, not to mention potentially making others feel worse in the process?  What’s wrong with this picture?

I work with primarily women, and it is amazing the number of times each day that someone comments on their weight, their diet, or their need to lose {insert number here} pounds. It has gotten to the point that these comments really make me angry.  I don’t do anything outwardly, of course, but inside, I SCREAM. Is this still where we are? Why do women still judge their worth based on their dress size or their scale reading? I know this topic is not new, but come ON, ladies. There are so many more important issues!

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I need to lose a few pounds. Do I obsess about it? No. Why not?  Because I think that loving myself is more important than torturing myself to adhere to a ridiculous societal standard. And, I have found that in loving myself, I want to be healthier. But not because “healthier” can mean skinnier (and it doesn’t always), but because I simply want to be happy, and loving myself is the first step. But here’s the crazy thing - you can love yourself just as you are. Just. as. you. are. Right now.  Not twenty pounds from now. Not when you get abs.  Right. Now.

You don't have a soul.  You are a Soul.  You have a body.  ~C.S. Lewis

You are not your body. Health is important - very important. We should all strive to take care of our bodies, but loving yourself is the first step to health. Let’s be honest - most people doing the “diet of the moment” or starving themselves are not doing it because they love themselves. They are doing it because they think it will make them happy - they’ll attract men, get the job, “fit in,” etc.

I’m starting to actually think that we haven’t moved the needle at all. Despite some media efforts and great campaigns like Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty, culturally, we haven’t changed at all. If anything, it’s getting worse.

I’ve had multiple people in my life battle eating disorders. I’ve certainly had my share of insecurities and body image issues. Unfortunately, that is the norm for any woman - or young girl - today.

How do we change it? How do we change the minds - and more importantly, the hearts - of millions of women? How do we change the messages that young girls are constantly bombarded with?

Unfortunately, much of this is out of the control of the everyday woman. But what is in our control? The way we talk. The comments we make about ourselves. Treating our size and outward appearance as the first and foremost descriptor of ourselves.

(credit: totalbeauty.com)

Is it really the worst? Personally, I want to be known for the kind of person I am and strive to be. If someone thinks of me, I hope they think of my spirit and (hopefully good) qualities - and not of my body type. Until society changes - and hopefully, one day, it will - I am going to focus on making sure I show people that I see their self - their characteristics and qualities that make them who they are. It's a small step, but if it starts to shift even one mind, I'll gladly take a million small steps.

"Dreams don't work unless you do."

Thesis...In...Progress...

(I'd much rather be writing here)


I feel as if I've become a major procrastinator.  I've been finding everything possible to do in lieu of my graduate thesis.  On one hand, I've gotten a lot done! But it's time to peel back and transition my skills to academic writing for a few days...

I left my heart in Haiti...

One of the absolute best weeks of my life was one in which I didn’t have air conditioning, “showered” under a cold trickle of water (on a good day), had heat exhaustion, and was surrounded by people with infections and in poor health. The. best. week. ever.

I love to help people. It’s what I do. It’s what makes me feel most alive. Have you ever felt like your heart is literally smiling? That’s how I feel when I’m helping others.

While always attracted to international work, I didn’t know how to do anything about it. An “uncle” (those friends of your parents that aren’t really uncles, but you call them such) became really involved in helping orphans in Russia. I had met people who had made trips to Africa. But it all seemed so far away, and something that I could never actually do.

The Haiti earthquake happened, and I watched with the world. I made my donations, but longed to do more – to really help. I’m not a doctor, nor an engineer. So even if I wanted to go, how would I? Join a medical team? Nope. A construction crew? Not that either.

Haiti had always been in my periphery. My parish is “twinned” with two parishes in Haiti, whom we help to support monetarily. Back in the 1980s, there were some medical mission trips, but there hadn't been any in decades. A few folks from our church’s “Haiti Committee” had visited in 2012 to get a lay of the land and see where our help was needed. Then, in 2013, the bulletin noted an upcoming meeting for anyone interested in possibly traveling to Haiti.

And my dream was born.

I didn’t have to think twice. You can bet I was at that meeting. Having absolutely no clue what I was potentially getting into.

Surprisingly, it took me a few weeks to make the final decision to go. It was like every potential fear creeped up and into my head – what could go wrong, the health risks, the political instability.

Malaria? Maybe. Political turmoil? Check.

Life changing? Absolutely.

The Haitian children walk miles to school every day. They are all dressed in bright, vibrant colors - and all the girls have ribbons to perfectly match their dresses.

From the room of the Church in Thomassique

The trip wasn't about me. It wasn't about doing something that made me feel good. It was about using myself. More so, allowing God to use me. I was a vessel.

Learning to give prescriptions in Haitian Creole: "one, two, or three pill(s) per day"

The Haitian people need so much. Diseases which are "no big deal" in the U.S. are literally life-threatening in Haiti, without the proper medicines and tools to diagnose and treat. Health education is extremely difficult, given that most don't have basic education on which to build.

In the "clinic" - an empty building where we set up camp

Shortly after I returned, I wrote, "my eyes and heart have been opened and stirred more than I can describe. The refrain in my mind as I think about the past 7 days: Take the time to love people. Everything else will fall into place. Nothing is as important as love."

The little girl in yellow would have come home with me if I had my druthers. She was attached to my hip the moment she came in and was giggling and smiling nonstop.

We gave this little boy a matchbox car - you would have thought we gave him the world. He and his mom were so grateful.

Painted at the orphanage. "Let the children come to me..."

I learned so much in Haiti. And not just how to diagnose worms and scabies. I learned about unconditional love - and all the ways that Haiti is truly 100x richer than American will ever be. I learned that when a voice in your head is telling you everything that could go wrong, it probably means you should do it. And I learned that when you do things for God, you will never, ever go wrong.

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love." ~ Mother Teresa

Friday tidbits

Taking a break from full-on blogging today to catch up on reading for grad school... class tomorrow.

In not-totally-surprising news, the 4:30am wake up call this morning was not entirely successful.  And by "not entirely successful," I mean that I got out of bed at 6:20. Le sigh.

A couple tidbits:

• I'm planning a surprise for a friend that I am SO excited about, but won't be able tell her for a week or two.  
• At the end of my first week back at work after two weeks off for Christmas, it already feels like Christmas was eons ago.
• Power was out for a couple hours this afternoon, while temps were in the high 20s.  It came back, and all was well, but thought I may end up at my parents' house if it hadn't.  It really made me appreciate those men up in those buckets - especially on these bitter cold days.  Thanks, NES crews!
• My last semester of grad school starts tomorrow.  I feel like I'm tipping over the very top of the hill on the roller coaster.  It's going to be one crazy, fast, stomach-turning ride from here on out.  And there will probably be points where I scream and throw my hands up in the air - just like a roller coaster. 

Getting up early...an experiment in discipline (and caffeine?)

Being off work for two weeks over the holidays has wreaked havoc on my sleep schedule. I love sleep. I never outgrew my teenage love of sleeping in. On the flip side, mornings are my most productive (assuming I can drag myself out of bed). I can stay up late every night, but I also want to get up uber early each morning to seize the day. Are you sensing the problem yet?

I recently read a tip from Jeff Goins that one should get up early in the morning to write. Start your day by accomplishing your writing, and it will give you a boost throughout the day. I really love this idea. It would be a great way to tackle my thesis. But can I do it? In an ideal world, I’d get up at 4 or 5, write for an hour or two, then shower and go to work. But, that means going to bed by 9 – maybe 10 at the latest? And by getting up that early, I’m sure I’ll be exhausted by the time I get home at 5 or 6.

Sure, I can supplement with copious amounts of caffeine, but I need to cut back on that. Plus, I read recently about everything the brain does developmentally while you sleep – only affirming my love for sleep. So I sit at a crossroads…how do I make the most of my time? I’ve always hated the cliché that you make time for that which is important you to. But unfortunately, it is true. It’s time to really discipline my days. That thesis is not going to write itself, Megan.

I'm starting an experiment by waking up at 4:30am tomorrow.  Hopefully I’ll write.  Soon, you’ll know.

Making peace with goals.

I’ve always hated the concept of “goal setting.” I think this goes back to my management consulting days. We had to create extensive goals each year, fitting them into particular categories, making sure they were “SMART” – i.e., Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, and Time-bound – and then, bonus! Our yearly evaluations were dependent on them. But we couldn’t just make fluffy goals that would be easy to attain. They had to meet certain requirements and then pass through several reviews to be approved by the powers that be. The problem was, after spending so long on the darn things, we were so relieved to have them written, that we would wipe our hands, pat our backs, and congratulate ourselves on checking the box and then proceed to move on with our “real” work. Until about 6 weeks before our evaluations, that is, when we would dust off the goals and scramble to see if we could come up with things we had done in the previous year to fit into each of our goal areas and start rehearsing our persuasive pitches of how we really did meet our goals. It was exhausting.

That’s not to say goals are bad. However, in my life, they have largely been associated with having to make them, and being graded on them. I guess I need to get over that. Because goals are good – and important. Even as I’m writing this, I’m thinking “maybe I don’t have PTSD from consulting, but rather, a learned avoidance of setting goals because I fear not meeting those goals.” Yikes, this might be closer to the truth.

Like so many things in life, the more we talk about them, share them with friends, and generally publicize them, the more real our goals become – we’re held accountable.  My goals likely need to be “SMART,” but for now, I’m just going to focus on getting them out there. After all, easier to be an editor than an author.

Review your goals twice every day in order to be focused on achieving them. ~ Les Brown

Writing Goals for 2015

Complete and defend my Master's thesis. I know, I know. This one isn’t totally thrilling. But as anyone who has been through the process knows, it is a huge undertaking of both writing and research. While I would rather wax poetic for 100 pages from my own head, I think this process will be good discipline for me in applying the research component and learning to write within a confined structure. My initial goal was to graduate in August. In order to do this, I have to have a first draft in March (gulp), rewrites in April, final edits in May, defend in June, and bind it in July. I really want to do this, but taking my final two classes in the spring at the same time, might make me go crazy. I have the option of deferring graduate until December, and pushing out process a few months, but I really want to challenge myself to see if I can do it for August. Encouragement welcome ;)

Begin my book. I’ve written tiny bits and pieces of it my whole life. The idea and desire to write a book is not new to me. But I’m determined to actually make it a reality this year. I hope to complete the manuscript. But if not, I want to be fully, eyebrows deep in the process this year.

Maintain my blog. This blog is my outlet. As much as possible, I’m going to write here every day. It may slip once in a while – especially when the thesis crunch comes – but this is where I will let out the crazy thoughts and voices in my mind. It might be serious and thought-provoking, or it might be silly nonsense.  Likely, it will be both.

So there they are. My 3 writing goals for the year. Accountability – check. Maybe goals are going to be good for me after all.

If I could write a letter to me...

Dear 17-year-old Megan,

Breathe. 

You don’t need to have everything figured out. Stop focusing on the destination and enjoy the journey. Smile. Have fun.

Believe it or not, you WILL miss being 17. 

Don’t worry about what other people think. Period. Don’t think the worst of others, either. Take care of yourself.

Be kind to your parents. Even when they drive you crazy.  They have more on their plate than you realize. And they are putting up with you.

When you pick a college major, pick one that interests you. It truly won’t matter in the long run. Take your parents’ advice into consideration, but make your own decision.

Don’t worry about the plan you have for your life - it won’t happen that way anyway. And when it doesn’t go your way, realize that there is a greater reason. Look for what you can learn.

Take risks, but don't be reckless. 

Don’t make decisions based on money. It won’t make you happy.  

Pray every day. You’ll go through good times and bad, and at times faith will be your only constant.

Remember where you came from. Call Oma. Call your parents, and your brothers.  Don’t end a conversation without telling them you love them. 

Have a creative outlet. Keep writing. 

Stop criticizing yourself. You are beautiful.

Good things headed your way. There will be hard times too. Soak up every experience - together they will make you into the person you are meant to be. 

Love, Me

When I'm worried, and I can’t sleep, I count my blessings instead of sheep. - Irving Berlin

Today’s blessings…

• A good friend got a new job…so happy for her and her new start.
• The office renovation is over - I finally moved into a permanent (at least for now) office. No more wandering-Megan. 
• I reconnected with dear coworkers after being gone for two weeks.
• I got to see and love the most sweetest godbaby (though she’s not really a baby anymore!) ever.
• Downton Abbey is back!
• Puppy kisses
• Finding out my friend’s scheduled C-section date - twin girls coming soon!
• Not to mention...a home, a job, a family, faith, an education, and thirty years of life experiences.

When I'm worried and I can't sleep

I count my blessings instead of sheep

And I fall asleep

Counting my blessings

When my bankroll is getting small

I think of when I had none at all

And I fall asleep

Counting my blessings

If you're worried and you can't sleep

Just count your blessings instead of sheep

And you'll fall asleep

Counting your blessings

"Friends are how God gives hugs."

I met up briefly with a dear old friend, Melissa, and her other half tonight. In a random turn of events, they recently bought a house just down the street from my parents and where I grew up. I was so excited when I found this out because I don’t see her nearly enough.

We met back in 2010 while I was working at Deloitte and making the transition back to Nashville from DC. She had just moved to Nashville from Florida and was brand-spanking-new to Deloitte. Amidst a crazy project with even crazier hours (it was insane – being-made-to-feel-guilty-for-leaving-work-at-11pm insane), we quickly became great friends. When I made the decision to leave Deloitte, I was thrilled, but so sad to leave my partner in crime. We’d make a point to grab lunch or dinner every so often, but we were both busy and it usually only amounted to once or twice a year. So I was equally shocked and happy to hear that they live in their new neighborhood where I often visit and close to my office – hopefully meaning we’ll see each others’ faces much more often!

Tonight I gave them the rundown on the neighborhood, the neighbors, and even their house. When I was in 7th and 8th grade, I actually babysat for the family that lived in their house – it was crazy to be back in there tonight, seeing her home office where the little boy’s room was.

Melissa is a wonderful friend. She is a perfect example of God placing lifesavers in your life when you need them. I firmly believe that every person comes into our lives for a reason. And it could be that a person is only supposed to be in your life for a short time, or they may be meant to be in it forever. Not every friend is supposed to be your friend from age 8 to 80, but every person serves a purpose – no matter how brief their appearance. As people come into our lives – both new and returning – I think it behooves us to remember that they were placed there for a reason. And God won’t let them leave our lives until we’ve learned from them what we are supposed to. The lesson may not be obvious. It could be a seed planted that doesn’t grow to teach us what it is meant to until years later. This goes for our not-so-favorite people too. In fact, I think I have learned just as much – if not more – from people who I haven’t loved having in my life. They taught me to face realities, challenges, and who and what I don’t want to be.

So if you have ever crossed my path in life at all, thank you. You have helped to shape me into me.

If it’s both terrifying and amazing then you should definitely pursue it. - Erada

“We can't be afraid of change. You may feel very secure in the pond that you are in, but if you never venture out of it, you will never know that there is such a thing as an ocean, a sea. Holding onto something that is good for you now, may be the very reason why you don't have something better.” 

― C. JoyBell C.

I’ve been thinking a lot these days about doing what I’m good at versus doing what I’m passionate about.  As I am learning to follow my passion, it means several big changes in my life - changes that may or may not turn out the way I expect. It is a huge risk. But without great risk, there can be no great reward, right? I’m grateful in times like this to have my faith.  It encourages me to take a step into the perceived darkness, with the hope of a light.

I might fall flat on my face.  I might end up a year from now right back where I started from - or even behind.  Or I might be the happiest, most fulfilled I’ve ever been.  But I won’t know if I don’t venture out.

Fear of change. Fear of the unknown. Fear of judgment. I’m letting go of all of these. I know I was made for greater things - now I’m out to seek them.

Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before - Dalai Lama

In the process of revamping my little notebook here, I saw this old post. Let's do a little update, shall we?

From 1/3/2013:

In no particular order, the places I have never been and to which I long to travel within the next three years:

UK

Napa Valley

Pacific Ocean (I've never seen it!)

Costa Rica

Route 66 (drive the original road)

San Francisco

Australia

Corydon, IA

Longer term:

Vienna

Vietnam

St. Petersburg, Russia

Greece

Alaska

South Africa

[back to present]

Well, at least I could cross one off!  Considering this was written in 2013, I'm not (yet) delinquent on my lists, but I best get moving!

London was everything I had imagined and more.  I absolutely fell in love with the city.  So much so that given the opportunity, I would consider moving there.

Everyone told us not to bother with going on the London Eye (ferris wheel).  But we did and we LOVED it. 

Best. Sticky. Toffee. Ever.

Department stores were works of art.

I loved Oxford.  The architecture alone was incredible, and history is amazing.  

Do you know the muffin man?  (I couldn't resist)

I took the trip to London back in April of 2013, as my cousin (who I call my sister) was studying abroad there for a semester.  Since then I have resolved to leave the country at least once each year and go to a new place.  Last year (2014) it was Haiti - quite different than London, but an experience all on its own (separate posts to come about that).

In the meantime, I need to pick my 2015 spot.  I'm dying to go back to London again, but maybe Ireland?  I also have a friend India I'd love to go visit. Or maybe I'll stick stateside and finally take my California trip. I suppose for the moment, I will see where God and the spirit guide me :)

In pursuit of passion in writing

Tap, tap, tap….is this thing on?

I love writing – always have. My deepest desire is to write, to tell stories, and to affect people through stories. What do I do for a living? Oh, I manage healthcare care coordination programs for a hospital system. Wondering where the connection is? Me too. The truth is, there are things that a person is “good at” and there are a person’s passions.  My passion isn’t program management in healthcare. It is interesting, and I like enabling programs that are truly helping people. I’m highly organized, OCD, and type-A…all of which help me to do my job well. But it isn’t my passion.

I love to write. I don’t do it enough. Partially because when I write, my innermost feelings tend to creep out and there is a part of me that is afraid of judgment when I put these thoughts out there for the world. Every year, I make a vow to myself that I am going to make more time for writing, and for pursuing my passion. This year, my passion project is to write every day. Yes, every day. Likely, many days it will be short, other days it might be a novella. Some days it may not be on this blog, but writing for my Master’s thesis. In all of my writing, I’m seeking to further bring my passion to the surface.

I don’t intend to widely publicize this, but if people happen to stumble across it, welcome to a little corner of my world – and watch as I expand it into my life.