...I think we have a problem

Jim + Pam = LOVE

Caitlyn: I just want to meet someone who loves me that much
Molly: I just want Jim to love me that much

Rock bottom's where we live, and still we dig these trenches

So tonight is the VERY necessary girl's night out.
However, since us girls (ie. Carlye, Katelyn, Caitlyn and I)are only 17 and non-drinkers, the closest we got was sleeping outside. We have this huge mosquito net tent set up on the balcon above the trampoline and we've been taking pictures and watching seasons of the office on Carlye's laptop (no one said we were ROUGHING it).
So far, it's been really fun.
I don't know what's going to happen in September.
Caitlyn leaves for the War College, Deanna leaves for Scotland.
Yeah, the rest of the crew will still be here; Carlye, Katelyn and I have no real plans, Mike and Tyler will still be in their last year at highschool, Michelle will be back in Nanaimo... but what happens when more and more people slowly mve out of the picture. I know things have to change, trust me, I know that better than anyone, but can't I have someone stick by me on my journies. As I type this, the answer becomes clear; God is here. He is omniscient and eternal. I know that and I appreciate that... but it doesn't mean I'm not still scared.
Lord, thank you for always being there. Thanbk you for keeping me safe and alive another day, and thank you for all my friends, they are such a blessing. Please help me to turn to you when I am scared or lonely or feeling angry or pessimistic. Please be my ultimate best friend forever.
I love you and I'm grateful that I will NEVER lose you.
Amen.

Light starts in a dark place, the story of a car chase

The following are things Caitlyn has told me to blog about.
The other night Caitlyn decided to make a quesadilla at 1am.
She told me to blog it.
My status on facebook is currently "Molly is suffering from CGS (christian girl syndrome) and needs medical attention ASAP"
Caitlyn responded with "A cute Christian doctor"
Molly: that would NOT solve my problem
Caitlyn: It would def solve it.

...then she told me to blog about it.






So last night I decided to stop feeling sorry for myself for pulling away from God and actually DO something about it.
So I sat outside on the trampoline with my ipod and prayed for awhile.... until the thunder and lightning started and I remembered the story Kellie told us about the guy who got struck by lightning listening to his ipod.
So I went inside.

Not gonna lie, I'm a little scared of what comes after all this.
I mean, I'm having a great life.
As I type this, I'm blaring the spill canvas with Caitlyn and Taylor Craig,
and making fun of Chlesea.
Good times are being had by all.
But what happens in september?
Caitlyn leaves, and I know Chelsea wants me to stay here, she's talked to me about it... but I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or where I'm wanted.
I just wish I had somewhere I knew I belonged.

Is it in you now, to bear to hear the truth that you have spoken?

Hey mom,
how's the afterlife?
So I guess by now you're all caught up with everything concerning dad.
Are you surprised?
You know, after everything you've been through, I would think that nothing
can shock you. I guess that's kind of how it is with me these days. I'm numb to all of that.
It reminds me of that story from when Chelsea was a toddler and was walking on the beach with Aunty Carol and stepped on some barnacles and her feet started to bleed.
Aunty Carol said "Oh no Chelsea! Look at your feet!" and Chelsea responded with "Strawberry Jelly?"
My reflexes are shot. It's not like I'm cold or cut off from the world's emotions, I feel pain and love and fear. Mostly just fear. The only differences is, it doesn't wound me. I just struggle through it.
It's sad to think that my mom being dead is just a sidenote to the rest of the tragedies of my life. I barely even think of it anymore. I still think of you when someone mentions their mother, but I can barely summon up the feelings to be sad.
It's not like I have no feelings anymore... it's just that that area of my life seems infantile compared to the rest of this.
I don't want you to feel unimportant, mom. You're anything but.
Sometimes I wonder what kind of person I could have turned into if
you were still around. I wonder if I would have become someone you could be proud of.
I don't hate myself mom, or beat myself up for who I am. I can deal with my mistakes... and I can deal with my sins... I just can't help but wonder if I would have stood a real chance.
I feel like I could have been so much more, such a better contribution. I could have loved people like crazy, made people feel wanted and important. I could have fed starving children and volunteered at hospitals.
You were a girl guide, you were a candystriper, you were a PAC mom and you made cookies for your daughter and half her class.
Yu were everything I will never amount to.
You changed people's days with a smile. People were better having known you... I just make people resent having talked to me.
I hate that no one will ever know you. All my friends and people at my church will never meet you. You will fade away into my past and be forgotten. You could have changed the world and now the world will never even know you existed at all.
I can talk about you, but it's not the same. You were so much more than tender words and good deeds. You were soft hands and warm hugs and soothing words in the middle of a thunder storm.
I hate going through this storm without you.
Love,
Your Moo

Don't drop your arms, I'll guard your heart

Out of all the insane letters I've written to my deceased mother, these are my two absolute favorites

Okay Mom,
I swear.. this is my last letter to you.
What a lie.
I swore to myself I'd stop writing to you.
It was supposed to be "grief therapy"
Well, when will the grief end?
Yeah... my mom died, trust me... the severity is not lost on me,
but the fact that it has to take over my life.. how is that fair.
I've made a lot of mistakes in my seventeen years, Mom...
but I have forgiveness, right? So why do I have this torment following
me around. I'm not laying a guilt trip on you or anything... I know this
was never your plan... I know you loved me. People tell me all the time.
"Your mother loved you so much" "You were your moms entire world"
"All your mom ever wanted for you was everything she never had"
It's the most ironic statement to say to a kid who's mother has just
kicked the bucket. I know you did mom, but do they truly
believe that these are my most gleeful moments?
I'm not trivializing it Mom, I'm just attempting to simplify.
I'm not complaining that I have a horrible burdened life because of
your death, because I don't. I love my life... I love it more than I ever have.
What I hate is whenever I'm at my happiest, it's never anyone else's happiest.
When I was happy back "in the day", that's all it was.
Pure simple happiness.
Now it's happy... and still kind of bummed out.
Or when I'm sad, you're not there to fix it.
I know teenage girls rarely go to their moms for advice,
even if they probably should... but I don't even HAVE the option.
This is getting sort of bratty, which was never my intention.
When did this happen mom? I tell everyone I'm SO over it
and SO okay. But I'm not, I never was. It still feels like one
big dream. Like I could wake up tomorrow and be living back on
Alsbrook Road in our 19th century house, with a dog and 3 cats and my
room across from my brothers. And you would have never gotten sick.
I would be 14 again, you would be in the garden, dad would be at work.
I would have no memory of NDSS or the Salvation Army, I would be best
friends with Alexis or Sami or Veronica (How weird is that?) and best
friends with Rachel, the girl who goes to school 2 cities away but
is still the most amazing friend I could ever have.
I'd have long blond hair and cute clothes and my perfect
naive princess life.
The truly ironic thing is, I don't want any of that.
I want to be a 17 year old who lives in a pathetic townhouse in Nanaimo
who is about to MAYBE graduate from NDSS. Who is worried
about friends and ex boyfriends and prom and psychology projects.
I want to be a girl who is normal, down to earth, VERY lacking in the naive
princess qualities and who has a mom.
But I can't have my cake and eat it too, can I mom?
Nope. Not me. Not anyone.
Which is why this is not a complaining letter.
Nothing comes from complaining.
Because in the end, I know that this isn't a dream and you aren't coming
back and I still have to deal with all of this on my own.
And I'm okay with that.
For now.
But get back to me tomorrow.
My entire opinion could have changed by then.
I'm a 17 year old girl.
It's what I do.


Mom,
If I still write to you, does that mean I’m still grieving?
Or does it mean that I’ll always be grieving, that I should be…? I don’t mean that I’m still in my mourning stages. I remember after you died I wore black everyday. It wasn’t to show that I was in the mourning process, it was because it expressed my emotions. I felt black.
I realized something then. People didn’t start wearing black out of respect for the dead, the first people started wearing it because they felt like total crap.
I still can’t believe that you’re dead. You are dead. My mom is dead. I have no mother. Seeing it on paper doesn’t make it seem real. I don’t think it will ever seem real.
I think that everyone around me has a little bit of you in them. Carlye, Michelle, Caitlyn… But that makes you seem kind of… inanimate… or that you’re really gone. I don’t like to think that you’re gone, just not with me. That you’re floating around watching me. That you can still see me, feel me, remember me. I hated the doctors talking about you being brain dead. Don’t they know how to talk to a 15 year old? You do not tell her that her mother has lost all her mentality. That makes you… not you. That makes you a vegetable. I know you were. You couldn’t breath or move or talk or even work up the energy to live. But that makes you a statistic, that makes you a waste of space. It makes you just a thing. Not my happy laughing mom. Not my mom with advice and love and… memories. That part of your brain went first, didn’t it? Is that how you stayed? That to this day you are dead AND your brain is mush. I know that brains aren’t important in heaven. No organs are. All that’s important is God. Which just adds to my fear that you don’t even know who I am. Humans find it safe to believe that you die and go to heaven and see all your loved ones. But if nothing matters but God, then it wont matter whether you remember me or not… to you or me. But at this very moment in time I am not in heaven. I am on earth and living and breathing and you’re not and there’s a chance that you don’t even remember I exist. That you’re just having a gay old time up in heaven, and you have no recollection of me or summers at the lake or teaching me to walk or my first word or when I won an award for my essay about Amelia Earhart. You wont remember when I fell off Radar and you cried while I laid unconscious in a hospital bed. Or how I cried while you laid unconscious in yours. I can tell myself over and over again that it won’t matter in the end, because I’ll be partying it up in Heaven… but it DOES matter. It matters right here and right now and will every second of every day until the day that I die. The day I lay unconscious in a hospital bed as my daughter cries and the doctors tell her I’m brain dead.
Maybe we can be brain dead together. We can chill on fluffy clouds holding our ineffective brains in pickle jars.
Why am I writing this? When did I become such a seething pessimist. I’ve been reading my old journal entries. From before you died.

March 24 2004
Mom’s sick again. She was just getting better. Her stomach is enlarged again. I’m scared.
Today in science we were talking about how we’re all nothing. Nothing is what it seems. Just like my conversations with Alexis. What if your red is someone else’s green? If everything, like bodies and stuff, are just shells, cells for the real us, then what’s the difference between being alive and being dead? I was talking to Oma about my whole death thing-- she said Grandma Molly was the same way. She always said “This body, it’s not the real me. I’m inside. The one with feelings and dreams is inside this capsule. What happens when the capsule dies? Where do I go? The real me?”
Alexis isn’t scared of death. Lucky her.

To be honest, I wasn’t scared. I was too self absorbed to be scared. I just liked how it looked on paper. This was back when Lennie and I would trade journals everyday and write responses to each others thoughts. Maybe I just wanted to seem deep and introspective in front of him, so I wouldn’t be traded in for a new best friend. I wasn’t worried. I was worrying about Sami and Veronica both being in love with Lennie and me dealing with their dumb best friend backlash. I was worrying about my mark in PE, because Alexis, Chelsey and I kept goofing off and Bevi totally had it in for us. I was worried about my lines in the school play and being initiated into Sami, Shannon, Veronica and Hollie’s stupid secret society.
But I wasn’t worried about you. I hope you’ve forgiven me for that. Trust me, I worry enough now to make up for it. What would my worrying have done, really? I didn’t have my medical degree. If the doctors couldn’t find out what was wrong with you, how was I expected to?
I wish that if you had to die, if it was God’s will for you to do so, that we would have known. I know it’s supposed to be better if someone dies quickly. But I never got to say goodbye. Ask you questions. I don’t know what I would have asked… probably nothing relevant now. But we still could have talked. Had a last conversation. I don’t remember our last conversation. It was in a hospital and your skin was yellow and you were on a morphine drip.
Jacob remembers his last one with you, even if it was over the phone. I’m sure dad remembers his too. I just remember yelling at you for ruining my life and slamming my door a lot. Why didn’t I appreciate you more, Mom?
Better question… why is this 4 pages of pointlessness?
I’m so sorry. I deal with this dumb guilt everyday. I take it all out on dad because he’s an easy target. The whole unconditional love thing is really amazing. The strange thing is, I’ve never taken it out on God, and he has the best case of everlasting lovin’. It’s like I can never do that to him, but I have no problem beating up on dad all the time. Honour thy father and thy mother. Well, sorry to play the “I’m a bratty teenage girl” card, but he started it.
Why did he have to leave? Why did he run away when I really needed him? You were gone. Jacob was gone.
The rest of the family spent all their time hating dad for pulling the plug. It’s weird, how I always end up defending him in front of them, but I can’t defend him against myself.
I guess what he did to me is personal, but with you, he went with your wishes… “do not resuscitate”. I don’t think I’ll ever make a promise like that with my spouse. I know that at the time that you said it, you thought that you wouldn’t want to kept alive in that state, but none of us REALLY knew what you wanted when it came down to it, did we? People can change their minds about stuff, right? What if you were trying to scream “Wait! I’m feeling better really! I’m not ready to die” and we just couldn’t hear you. It’s not your fault your brain had exploded. Yeah, I know, every science class I’ve ever attended tells me that you can make very little conscious decisions when you’re minus one cerebral cortex, but if it’s true about bodies just being capsules, then anything is possible isn’t it.
This is my letter of bitterness. I have very little chance to say any of this. Who am I supposed to say it to? I mentioned it once to Teresa and Dori… once.
I’ve never told anyone else.
All the thoughts that go through my head about brains in jars and exploding heads. Does it make me crazy?
Mommy, are you proud of me?
Do you look over me with your pickle jar and smile… or shake your head? (do you have a head? Back to the whole heaven with no bodies thing).
People always seem to be worried that when I think of you, I remember swollen, bruised you, with tubes coming out of you and an iron lung making your teeny tiny body jolt off the bed. Well I don’t. I think of the you when I was 3 years old… when you had that fuzzy pink housecoat with the button shaped like a pink rose. In our living room in Youbou sitting on the couch in the mornings in May watching Regis and Kathy Lee. And I’d come downstairs in my nightgown and cuddle with you on the couch and then you’d make me French toast, and we’d walk Maginty, or pick peas from the garden or color together in my Aladdin coloring book until Jacob came home from school. (Like when you taught me to color in circles because a girl in your grade 4 class taught you and she became an amazing artist.)
I’m not saying that I don’t think about those times in hospital. I do… a lot. But that’s not what I think of when I think of you. Maybe that’s one of those good things about the dying quickly thing. My bad hospital memories don’t overpower all the good pink housecoat ones.
But I still wish we could have talked before you died.
I wish I could have told you how much I love you.
I wish I could have said I was sorry.
I wish I could have thanked you for being my mom.
But I guess I also know that it’s still okay.
Because, well, maybe I really AM crazy, but I’m positive I just heard your voice say “I love you too, I forgave you before it happened, and thank you for being my daughter.”

Sweet Dreams Mom.
I will never forget you.
Molly

If we're adding to the noise...

You have heard that it was said, 'Do not commit adultery.' But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. If your right eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.

There is definitely no confusion there, and I fully believe in that teaching of Jesus.
(Not that I don't firmly believe in all the other ones)
My amazing bible study teacher, Dave Perry, told us when we were studying Matthew, that if he ever finds himself looking at another woman, he apologizes to Shirley (his wife) as soon as he sees her.
What I wonder is... does it stretch beyond that?
What about emotional infidelity? Having feelings for someone other than your significant other? Now I'm not just talking of loose physical attraction. I mean feelings of the deepest kind.
I sometimes worry for my friends when they discuss loving their boyfriends or girlfriends but still harbouring that emotional tie to an ex beau... or a new one.
It doesn't diminish the feelings for the first person, but definitely causes turmoil.
Now my personal belief is if you're feeling anything that makes you doubt your initial relationship, it crosses the line... whether it's in your own control or not.
I don't know why I'm blogging this and going nowhere in particular with it. It's 2:30 in the AM and I am delusional. hot and confused.
I was just talking to Caitlyn (after our discussion of "what constitutes cheating?") about how I've been raised many times. It's sad for me to realize I don't remember much of what I learned from my mom. She raised me for the first 15 years of my life. She taught me how to walk and talk and saw my first laugh.
Those are big stepping stones... and yet, I feel cut off from it all.
It's so hard to explain what it's like to feel like you don't have a past...
everything prior to 3 years ago is like a movie that I watched years ago but it didn't have enough of an impact on me at the time to watch it more than once, and I only half paid attention because I was talking to a friend through most of it and the color and sound were kind of bad and some of the characters didn't develop quite right and the plot had too many twists to make it believable.
My entire life has this fuzzy-around-the-edges quality to it.
Memories of my mom, swimming in the lake with my brother, being pushed on the swing by my dad... things that happened that I didn't quite understand at the time... and will never have the chance to because the person who lived it is gone.
I can't just go up to my mom and ask "Why did you keep your illness a secret for so long?" or "Why did you never seem scared?"
I can't reflect on memories with her
"Remember that time I helped you run a Brownie campout with your brownie troop and got to dress up like an alien?"
So eventually the images get blurrier and the edges more torn and just fade away completely.

So what did you do those 3 days you were dead? Cause this problem is gonna last more than the weekend.

March 2005

MªHªLª - šª®ªH *ª¤Feel Good Inc.¤ª* says:
I miss my mommy, Chris. I hate today.
Chris -||- says:
Yeah... Tomorrow will be different though
MªHªLª - šª®ªH *ª¤Feel Good Inc.¤ª* says:
How do you know?
Chris -||- says:
With every rise and fall of the sun, a new story in our lives are written
Chris -||- says:
Today was a sad chapter. Tomorrow's still unwritten.
Chris -||- says:
Really depends on what you want to write in there

I know that I'm definitely a different person than 15 year old me.
I was angry and scared and weak and so lost.
But I like to believe that what he told me then is still relevant.
Maybe that's why I kept it all those years ago...
Chris has always been my hope.
I saw my dad last night. I was just driving past my old house with Shannon, who had come up from Qualicum to see me, and she hasn't seen him since we were 14 and he wasn't exactly her biggest fan back then.
But being the cool girl she is, she just went with the flow.
It wasn't planned or anything. We were just driving past and I said "Hey, wanna go see my dad" which was answered with "Uhhhh... Uhhhh... If you'll be okay"
He looked better... different. Not different medicated, but almost like I've never seen him. He said that the doctors claim he's always been battling depression, and my mom's death just intensified it. Does that mean that I never truly knew the real him? Or that that is the real him, and this "chemically balanced" dad isn't truly him?
He hasn't smoked or drank in 5 weeks. He goes to stress meetings and does yoga. He says to come visit him any time and he hugged me a lot, but didn't cry when he did it like he used to. Maybe I've changed enough that I don't remind him of mom. Or maybe he's healthy enough that the reminder doesn't hurt him.

So..

Caitlyn and I are having an extensive conversation about people talking about us being accepted into things without us really being accepted.
For instance, when Jonathan Evan's kept talking to her about the War College, and blogging about her, but not saying "You've been accepted into the War College"
Or right now, when I tell Clint that I want to work in a bookstore because I love reading and he says
SendTheFire.ca - 24/7 Fuel for Life! says:
Well, at least you'll have no problems with that part of XLR:8 then.
SendTheFire.ca - 24/7 Fuel for Life! says:
The reading that is!

BUT YOU STILL HAVEN'T SENT ME AN ACCEPTANCE LETTER!

I just need to know for sure that I'm in.
I need proof.
In the form of written evidence.

That is all.

SALVATION ARMY'S CAMP SUNRISE - TEEN CAMP 2007!

Notice: Me pwning everyone in the boatrace... yeah, we won.

Jesus Christ

Jesus Christ, that's a pretty face
The kind you'd find on someone that could save
If they don't put me away
It’ll be a miracle
Do you believe you're missing out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else
With nobody in your bed
The night is hard to get through
And I will die all alone
And when I arrive I won’t know anyone
Well, Jesus Christ, I’m alone again
So what did you do those three days you were dead?
Because this problem is gonna last
More than the weekend
Well, Jesus Christ I’m not scared to die
But I’m a little bit scared of what comes after
Do I get the gold chariot
Do I float through the ceiling
Do I divide and pull apart
Cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark
This ship went down in sight of land
And at the gates does Thomas ask to see my hands?
I know you're coming in the night like a thief
But I’ve had some time alone to hone my lying technique
I know you think that I’m someone you can trust
But I’m scared I’ll get scared and I swear I’ll try to nail you back up
(everyone now)
So do you think that we could work out a sign
So I’ll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try
I know you're coming for the people like me
But we all got wood and nails
tongue tied in hate factories
We all got wood and nails
tongue tied in hate factories
We all got wood and nails
And we sleep inside of this machine

Gerbils crossing the street?

So I'm hanging out with Shannon tomorrow.
It's so weird to think of how much each of us has grown since we became friends.
Grade 7 - Sleepovers to work on French project, but just spending 15 minutes using instant-translator... and getting an A. Getting her moved because I talked to much in Socials.
(She was a straight A suck up kid).
Grade 8 - Middle school grade trip to Nanaimo. "Ew! I touched Lennie Low!"
Grade 9 - Passing notes en Francais. Sleepovers at Sami's... the baseball bat, Valentine's day parties (worst movies ever, but Lennie loved them)... Living with eachother for an entire summer... 3am trips to the beach, "Here, lick my finger", parties in the cowboy lounge, food poisoning at Rodeo, Prom adventures, amazing summer days at Tori's. Swimming at the lake, parades at the lake... bowling shoes at the lake.
So much more.

Of course, there was stuff from grade 10, but after my mom died, that year was just a blur.

After I left, so much changed. I mean, she dropped out of school for a bit, all the problems with her parents... all the problems with mine.
Growing up, I always had my life together. She'd just come and stay with us for a little while in the summer because she knew my mom always gave her an open invitation.
Neither of us knew how much the tables would turn.

The more I think about it, the more I'm sure I would have been okay if I had stayed on Parksville... stayed at KSS. I had amazing friends... most of the time.
I'm glad that I'm here, but I don't resent KSS or any of my memories there anymore.
And I miss Shannon and Chelsey and Gibby and Lennie and Veronica and Janelle.

The point is.... I'm hanging out with Shannsy tomorrow.

We seek all You are; We lift our eyes to the stars

I really wish that I would've spoken in church today, but I didn't stand up fast enough.
I wanted to tell the girls how much I love them. How I barely knew them when we went to camp and then by the last day I felt like... I was responsible for their hearts.
After numerous campfires, worship services and 1am cabin talks, I felt like it was my duty to protect them... to shield them from the pain of the world.
But I know it's too late for that. They've felt pain, they've been beaten and bruised emotionally, physically and spiritually.
Josh Reno's talk made me so proud. I felt so honoured to be such close friends with such an amazing man. Some may argue with me, but despite his immature demeanor, he is more of a man than most of the people I come in contact with.
To sit beside his mother and hold her while she cried with happiness over the transformation of her son was breathtaking.
Or after church, being approached by another kid's mom and having her tell me that she prays and will continue to pray especially for me every single day, and thanking me for being friends with her son at camp when no one else would.
Josh mentioned in his talk that Shawn always gets us to find accountability partners to help us keep our promises we've made to Jesus, and how he wants his accountability partner to be our congregation, because we are a family. Afterwards, Major Martin urged everyone to create relationships with each of us teens, and to pray for us continuously.
All of them promised that they would, and the pouring out of love touched me so deeply.
I don't know what I would do without my church, and I hope they know how much their sentiment truly does mean to each of us teenagers;
That it will never be forgotten.