Tomorrow morning, I am off on an adventure. One hubby, one mommy, and one two and half year-old; set to drive a few states over! There are so many things I am looking forward to. Particularly, as this is officially my "Mrs. Colorado American Queen Blog", I must share with you that I feel honored to participate in the 2010 national crowning ceremony for the award-winning American Queen Pageant.
I have held a wonderful affinity for this system, since my first involvement in 2004 (I believe) as a judge for a regional preliminary. That year I made it into fifteen seconds of an MTV clip, whose cameras were rolling for a special that featured the event! I came back the following year, so glad for the chance to reunite with Connie Wallace, the founder, to chat and learn. And now, here I am, corresponding with the new national director as a contestant and heading out to be part of something that represents, for me, such positive involvement in pageantry. Thank you, thank you, thank you – to those who have paved the road that has lead to this opportunity.
More joyous than a reunion with a pageant family, however, is the reunion I will be sharing with my real family. And I do not stop with my brother, Grandma and Grandpa, my uncle Mark, and my cousins, Lisa and Kelly. I have been richly blessed to find time in this vacation to meet with Raeann Thompson, Jeni Jeppesen, and Gail Brickell. What a beautiful and diverse family I share when I think fondly of my sisters in Christ and the moments I have shared with them over the years. Gail and I worked together at CTU, and have grown to share pictures of daughters, stories of husbands, and tales of finding faith. Jeni and I share some of my most treasured memories … from sunning on the beaches of Florida, to crying together in a barrowed bathtub, to the kindness she showed me as I fell before her broken, wondering where God would take me next. And Raeann, oh Raeann – I can laugh and cry at just the mention of your name, the stories are too great … too deep to ever hope to express in a few words. But Sister, oh how my heart rejoices for you and my soul reaches to the Heavens to pray for your life. You mean more to me than could ever be hoped for in friendship – the Lord must have ordained it that I never have a biological sister, for the competition would be stiff for my affection!
And what of the Brothers I know to have in Christ? I can only hope to run into some of the greats of my life in Hannibal. Ben Craig, Cary Perrin, Drew Smith, TJ Collins, John Friesen … I am aware that many of us have moved on, but here's to the hope that you might be in town for the 4th of July, so that I can enjoy the occasion of running into you! Ben and Cary – we were IT in the old days, remember? Before it was ever "cool" (if, indeed, it ever was …) to be part of that big youth-group, it was just US. We'd pile up in Ben's Oldsmobile and drive around listening to Busta' Rhymes … ha ha! Then you'd come over to the house and I'd bake chocolate-chip cookies … every day. Drew … "wiggly worms" is still the baddest gang around, and uh – sorry about cussing you out in Spanish class when you said my surgery bandages made me look like a mummy! The thing is - they did. TJ, you were a neighbor and a friend! Perhaps it seemed we just hung out leisurely, but trust me when I tell you I watched you from afar, watched your transformation – your commitment to growing into a man that honored God. Many a times, I used your life as a measure for mine, recognizing that my years on your relationship with Christ mirrored nothing in comparison to your newfound passion. And John … you. are. hilarious. But you're much more than hilarious, you are thoughtful and thought-provoking, and you will be rewarded greatly on the day you meet our Savior, my friend. I get joy from seeing you and your beautiful bride in your photos!
The memories I have lived in Missouri are bitter-sweet, because I know they are gradually moving to the back of my mind. The reality that my brother is moving to Cincinnati affects me deeply on a number of levels. The obvious, of course, is that I am losing my little brother. He is, by no means, little. Though I have lived away from him now for over three years, there's something different about him picking up his things and moving to a place I have no connection to. So long as he was in the house we shared in Kansas City, so were my memories.
I count on that house, that city – my brother, to hold a past-identity. There's the "remember that time"s, and the "ever hear from so-and-so"s, and the, "man I miss that place"s. I can always visit and Michael and I hit up our favorite coffee houses and restaurants, and I sneak in a few conversations with friends. The truth is, it's time for me to begin thinking fondly of new memories; the time Raeann and I drove to Denver … and the infamous stop at a McDonald's in Kansas … my wedding … the moment I woke up to tell Keith my water had broken … the mismatch coaches we had in our living room on Penrose … the way Madelynn ran around our house with goggles on … Angela's boyfriend trying to figure out how to fit her futon into our new apartment. But, it's hard. New memories mean a new life. For three years I have lived in one of the most desired cities in America, have been married to "the nicest guy you've ever met", and I have a beautiful, beautiful daughter. However, there is something in me, still, that convinces me hard times eluded my life before I moved here. It's as though I try to escape new challenges by clinging to my "remember that time"s.
Truth is, when Michael moves, there won't be much reason to return to Missouri. My only compelling connection will have moved on, forcing me to realize that all Kansas City, or Hannibal, or Columbia holds for me are memories. And don't get me wrong, memories are powerful and meaningful things, but if that's all that Missouri holds for me … then I must learn to cling to the ones I have right here in front of me. It is, perhaps, a deeper layer of "growing up" and one I have been fearful to approach.
So, Kansas City – here I come! Columbia, I will make sure and stop by the Artisan for some great hummus and a cappuccino. Hannibal, I look forward to the "run-ins" you will provide. But then, and I say this with a heavy and yet, somehow, joyous heart – I must leave you. And it won't be leaving you like it has been before; it won't be the kind of leaving that shows regret on my face – like I'd stay if I could. It won't be the "goodbye" that holds onto the grudges that keep me tied to you. It won't be the "see ya' later" that begins to plan the next trip. Kansas City, Columbia, Hannibal … it will be the kind of leaving that means it's over; the chapter has been written, and it's time to write of the beautiful life that is standing in front of me and waiting … waiting to be truly lived.
