Grace Under Fire

Most of my blog posts are about one of four things: my husband, my family, my friends, or reality T.V. This post is no different. Today I’m gonna tell you a little bit about my best friend Flynn.

 Flynn & I have known each other for 19 years. For the first three of those years, Flynn hated me. I have no idea how we turned a corner and became so close, but we did. And we have been since.

 Flynn & I are opposites. She is private and carefree and artsy. She holds her cards close to her chest, she doesn’t really stress over the details, she takes vitamins, and she doesn’t watch T.V.

 She hardly ever shops, she works multiple jobs, she’s adventurous, and she “doesn’t like sweets”.

 Like I said, opp.o.sites!

 Do any of you remember the show from the 90’s, Grace Under Fire? I think it was about some woman named Grace and all her daily hardships. I can’t really remember. But while I was down in Florida visiting Flynn last week that show popped into my mind. I decided if Flynn had a reality show right now it would be called Grace Under Fire. Flynn is going through an incredibly difficult time right now. If I were in her shoes, I would be a crumpled mess on the floor or a binge drinker or both. But not my Flynnie. She is the picture of grace under fire. She takes it all in stride, she talks it out, she doesn’t allow her sadness to take away her happiness.

 She’s an inspiration.

 Every time I talk to Flynn she says “I’m just lucky I get to _____”. Fill in the blank. In the midst of all this stress and heartache Flynn never stops feeling grateful. She never takes anything for granted. And she hardly ever cries about things. She does what needs to be done and most of the time she does it with a smile on her face.

 Grace.

 She is full of it. It is beautiful to witness.

Friday

You know what I love about Fridays? Besides the prerequisite weekend stuff of course. I love thinking about all the girls getting married tomorrow. I love to think about all the guys and all the gals that are right on the precipice of marriage. How exciting that night was for me. I felt on top of the world. I felt so loved, not just by Josh, but by every single person that made the trip to Charleston for the weekend. How they all gushed over us and clapped every time we walked into a room and laughed and danced and celebrated.

It was such an occasion.

And I just get so darn excited for anyone and everyone about to experience the same. This is what I want to tell the brides and grooms of the world on the Friday before their wedding:

This weekend, this much anticipated fancy affair called a wedding has NOTHING on an actual marriage. Yes, it means special lighting and sappy toasts and the Electric Slide, but it’s the marriage part that’s truly an event. It may be more sweat pants than wedding dress and more Bud Light than Champagne, but it’s also more tender, more intimate, and, if you can believe it, more special than this one single day will ever be.

This isn’t to say you shouldn’t enjoy your wedding. Celebrate it! Obsess over it!  Agonize over the perfect shade of coral! But be sure to realize this is only the beginning. You are starting off the most precious journey with a bang. If you think you are happy now…just wait.

It gets so much better.

Best wishes to all the brides and grooms out there. As my father said the night my brother got married: “May your wedding day be the worst day of your marriage.”

Chevrolet's True Stories

This little story gets me choked up every single time I watch. The dad just kills me.


 LOVE!

http://youtu.be/E_I9fyX0RhI

Kroy Andrew Sauer

Kroy is big brother to my best friend Flynn, little brother to my best friend Brittny, and Executioner of Torment to me in my teens.

In 6^th grade he started a rumor that I stuffed my bra.

On my first day of high school, he picked me up by my brand new Express jeans and stuffed me head first into a trash can.

He nicknamed me ‘Dumbo’ in Spanish class because my ears always stuck through my hair.

I never knew people could actually be stuffed into a locker…until Kroy stuffed me in mine.

He once placed dozens of cigarettes around my desk. I had to stay after school to clean them up because I wouldn’t tell the teacher who did it.

He caught me skinny dipping one summer night and shined every pool light on my scrawny, pre-pubescent body.

The list goes on and on.

 But still, I cannot think of that boy without the corners of my lips curling into a smile. He was completely impossible. And impossible not to love.

 The day he passed away is the #3 Absolute Worst Day of My Life. They day I wrote his obituary is #1.

 I often think about what Kroy would think about me being the one to handle all those details, like his obituary or collecting his personal effects. By no means was I the most important person in Kroy’s life…but we did love so many of the same people- Flynn, Brittny, Nancy, Valerie. It makes me realize how closely we’re all connected. How loving one person means you automatically love the people they love. How you carry people in your heart without even realizing it…and then they’re gone and you feel their absence way more than you ever took the time to feel their presence.

Kroy taught me a lot of things (besides the words to Gimmee that Nutt). He taught me how strong I can be when I have to. He taught me to not take the people in my life for granted. He taught me how to be a better friend.

I think Kroy & I were unlikely friends from the beginning, but somehow, somewhere in the course of our lives, we became just that. Before Kroy passed away I used to imagine Heaven in one particular way: I used to imagine walking up to the gates and seeing my Grandma G waiting for me on the other side. I would be anxious to get through those gates and hug my Grandma again. Now, when I imagine Heaven, it’s mostly the same exact scene, except once I open the gates, a huge bucket of water dumps on my head. I realize in that moment that everyone I love has been waiting for me and Kroy has rigged the whole set-up. Just to torment me for eternity.