10 Years Without You

You know, 10 years ago, I didn't think I'd survive the week without you. After a week had passed, I decided I wouldn't last a year. 5 years would be impossible. 10, unimaginable.

But here I am.

10 years ago was a really big day. I saw people cry that I had never saw cry before. It's been 10 years since I thought my world was ending. 10 years since I told you I was going to be "Ms. Wulkan," a teacher like you. 10 years since I rambled to you about being a farmer and every other thing that went through my 10-year old mind. It's been 10 years since we squeezed hands or gave hugs. 10 years since I gave you a kiss goodbye.

Ten years have gone by and I'm really not sure how.

These days I can't remember the sound of your voice or your warm embrace. Most of the time I struggle to remember what you look like without looking at a picture.

But I think about how you always said "wastebasket" instead of garbage. I remember how we'd share breakfast (grapefruit with more sugar than fruit or the blue bowl with Cheerios or Frosted Flakes--it's been 10 years and I still can't eat Frosted Flakes) and watch the birds on the lilac bush, or Wheel of Fortune on that TV on the counter. How you always had Jolly Ranchers and Wrigley's Doublemint and Spearmint gum on the top of the refrigerator. Naps on the couch, games at the table, a variety of cookies in the cookie jar. I remember you sweeping dirt under the rug, but chasing after us with the broom for driving the four-wheelers and go-carts on your sidewalk. I remember wearing a black dress with pink, sparkly butterflies all over it, and a pin to your funeral. I remember my sister jokingly telling me I leave a trail wherever I go. I remember that you were always so gentle, so caring, so full of wisdom. But most importantly, I remember the never-ending love and patience that you had.

My heart broke ten years ago, and sometimes I feel like it's going to break all over again when I think about what you've missed. Oh, the questions I would ask you if you were still here; the advice I would ask for.

Some days it feels like we just lost you last month; others, it feels like you were only a dream it's been so long.

Ten years have gone by and I still don't know how. I'm here, and you're not, but someday we'll be together again.❤

I love you Grandma.

TWENTY. God, bless this mess.

I'm 20.


I suddenly feel like I need to have my life completely together and figured out.

And I've never felt like my life is further from "together."


As I walked across the stage to receive my first college degree, I decided I didn't want to be a teacher for the rest of my life.

I planned on going back to school right away for another degree anyway. But here's the problem: when they asked what I was going to do with it, I had no answer. How do you answer that when really the only reason you are going to school in the first place is because you aren't a mom yet?

I am not anywhere close to the plans I had made in the first two decades of my life. I learned a lot. I grew a lot. I changed a lot. I still have a lot of learning, a lot of growing, and a lot of changing left to do. I have had a very eventful first two decades (I drew the short stick when it comes to life, as they say) and I'm just praying that the next one isn't so eventful.

I have no idea what I want to do with my life anymore. I've always wanted to be a mom and a teacher. But after teaching for 2 years, I have decided it's fine for the time being--not forever. I've always wanted to be a mom, but now I'm not so sure I want a family just yet.
I don't have friends that I'm close to (in distance or relationship). I'm quite the loner. Some days I love it, and others I don't. I'm shy and indecisive. I want so desperately to get out of my shell, but it's terrifying. And when I do get out of my shell, the people I'm close to are sure to ask a million and ten questions.



I wrote that back in July. It's the end of October and it's still pretty fitting.

I've been on internship for a couple of weeks now. I'm loving being on the farm everyday, though I do miss going to school and seeing everybody. I've smiled, really smiled, more on internship than I can remember in the last year.

I still don't know for sure what I want to do with my life, but instead of stressing about it, I have decided I'm just going to wing it! "God, bless this mess" is something I say often. It's all in God's hands anyway, so I'm trying not to stress.

I'm working on loving myself again and coming out of my shell. My Marriage and Family Living teacher last fall had us think of 21 "I am" statements. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. I recently wrote them down on index cards and reread them fairly often. When I feel anxious or start thinking negatively, I repeat them to myself. Over and over again, I say them. Out loud if I'm alone, to myself if I'm not. It's a good reminder and seems to work.

I've become closer to God over the last few months. I've realized who my friends are, who I can count on, who cares. Sometimes I forget, but God is there to pick up the pieces. I've begun to visit with people about God--something I never used to discuss with anybody but close family and two of my best friends. I pray more intentionally, and more often than ever before. I look forward to teaching Sunday School every week. I didn't go a lot as a kid, so I get to learn right along with them!

Maybe 20 means finding myself again. Maybe 20 means finding my passion again. Maybe being 20 means learning to embrace the mess. Maybe 20 is not looking back, or looking forward, but enjoying the moment. Maybe being 20 means letting go and letting God.


God, bless this mess.

Hi, Nice to Meet You

In my head, meeting people sounds amazing.

I find people interesting. I love to know how people grew up, why they do what they do, their goals, what they want in life, what they find interesting. I love to learn how we are all connected; how we are all so different, but yet share so much in common.

But when it comes time to meet new people, I close up. I get shy. Too afraid to talk. A million and ten thoughts run through my head and I don't know how to slow them down, open my mouth, and squeak something, anything, out.

Many say that they "hate people." They don't go out because they "hate people." They don't want to meet new people because they "hate people."


One person does something we don't like and suddenly we hate everyone.


"Hate" is a pretty strong word--I urge you to use it less. Try "dislike" or "don't agree."

Even though I get nervous, I don't hate people. I love people. I love getting to know them. I love learning what makes them tick. I love to see them passionate about something. Anything. I may dislike their choices, but I don't hate them. I want to see someone be stubborn; I want to see you stick your ground and stand for what you believe in (it is possible to be a polite and open-minded, while staying true to your beliefs); I want to see people succeed.


We don't have to agree with someone's choices to love them.


I don't love stealing, cheating, lying, or deceiving. I don't love standing on the flag or shooting people. I don't love attacking people, we've never even met, over the internet because we don't agree with a choice they made. I just choose not to make those choices. If I had to agree with someone's every choice to love them, I wouldn't love anyone. Nobody is perfect. I am surely not. Sometimes I don't even agree with my own choices!

We need to be kind. We need to be supportive. We need to be patient. We need to be open-minded. We need to not say anything if we don't have anything nice to say. If you wouldn't say it in front of your grandma, at church, don't say it. 

But remember, nobody is perfect. If somebody slips up, remind them that you are there for them. Try not to lecture or ridicule. Find the person you can confide in, vent to, and trust.

So, be compassionate. Share your struggles. (You might just find common ground with someone you never thought possible!) Provide a listening ear. Encourage. Lift up. Compliment. Invite. Try not to judge. Use your manners. And most importantly, smile. {Smiles are contagious after all!😉}

I'll start. Hi, nice to meet you. I'm Brandi. :)

It's Been a Year.

Grandma, I have so much to tell you. I want to smile and laugh with you. I want to hear "hi honey" just one more time. I want hugs from your chair and Pizza Ranch chicken fries delivery dates. I want fruit snacks, freezies, and Disney movies. I want a text from my "gma." I want giggles. I want to hear that sigh when you pick up the phone. One more conversation with one of my best friends. Mostly, I want to hear "I love you honey" one last time.

It's been a year and honestly, I think it is getting harder. Your number isn't yours. Your house isn't yours. Your voice is fading. Your warm embrace is gone, along with your sweet sigh. Our conversations from everything about life to notebooks and pens, I'm losing grasp of. All the cookies baked, water in purple cups, and TV dinners are memories I'm squeezing tight. I've got the blue chicken, now for some double trouble bubble gum!

Grandma, I know you needed to go, but I miss you so.

I'll never know if I found "the one," but I remember your advice about not needing someone. I'll never get to share stories about my nuggets. You didn't get to be at my college graduation; you won't meet my babies. We'll never get to discuss another book, watch another movie, or share another Lunchable.

I love you and miss you beyond words.

Until we're together again💙