How I am (Finally) Feeling.

What can we call this feeling I'm feeling? This revelation of light after a forever of darkness; this first breath after a coma of restless loneliness. I tried to find a most excellent word for such an excellent feeling, but after much contemplating, I still wasn't able to find one. For the majority of this school year I've felt rather trapped, distant, and lonely. But with this time away from the chaos and turbulence of every day life, my exhausted heart has had time to rest, heal old hurts, and become its own again. Yesterday I felt the distict moment I had been subconciously waiting for. In that moment, I accepted the things that I had been denying about my life and who I was to be, I let go of the forced hope for a plan that may not be right, and something inside said to me softly; "Go on." Suddenly, I found myself thinking about the possibilities that lie ahead, rather than willing my way upon my future. I sat in the backseat of a silver car, driving through suburbia as I thought these wonderful thoughts, and smiled from my insides out. What a superb feeling with which to begin a new year. We could call this feeling hope, we could call it happiness, but really, I don't think a word exists that describes it entirely. But that's alright, a feeling this marvelous doesn't require a name, it requires only that we let it make us better.

Beige Everything and Business Centers

When I go outside and turn in a circle, I can find no mountains. Instead, I see buildings that sit heavily on the dead ground like enormous landlocked ships. When I look for color, I most often find beige. Beige houses, beige houses, beige grass. Worst. Color. Ever. Where am I? Minneapolis, Minnesota. I guess if I had grown up here, I wouldn't notice it, but since I live in under the big sky, the contrast is a stark one. As we drive around, my gramma tells us what cities we are in. How can one tell? There is NO space between towns; they all just run together like a big cluttery mess of malls and cars and "Business Centers." It's completely overwhelming. Luckily, I have the relative peace of Gramma's house to retreat to. Gramma's house is an oasis of food and boredom, where I have my own little room furnished with the senior high pictures of my mom and all her siblings. Tonight for dinner we ate Chicken Delight, a true midwestern dish, the main ingredients of which are: Velveeta cheese, broccoli, stuffing, chicken, and french fried onions from a tin. It was absolutely delicious; a big cheesy casserole of comfort. Tomorrow the girl cousins and I are taking on MOA. Mall. Of. America. On the front page of yesterdays newspaper there was an article announcing that a 200 person fight/riot/brawl/shoplifting spree had broken out at that very place just the day before, and here I am, going there voluntarily. What is this madness? All for jeans that make my rear end look fabulous. Well, maybe. I might get trampled to death before I can do anything about it. Being here makes me realize even more how amazing home is. Suburbia isn't my kind of place. I can't wait to breath in some fresh mountain air and look at the horses and cows as I drive the back roads.

Christmas Is Here Again

No other time of the year holds quite as much joy for me as the Christmas season. My heart fills up with love and I participate in every quintessential Christmas activity, from baking cookies to going caroling to walking in winter wonderlands. I love it all.  On the very day after Thanksgiving each year, I declare it to be Christmas time, and my family and I climb into the minivan together and drive to wherever I believe has the best and most Christmas-y Christmas trees available. We take the tree home, I make Walter pull the decorations from under the house, (the spiders under there are to big for me to do it) and then drive me into town to replace the lights that have stopped working. Then I pop in some Christmas tunes and decorate the tree like an elf on triple-shot espresso, smiling my face off the whole time. I love unpacking the ornaments, because when I lift each one out of the shredded newspaper packing it's like picking up a piece of my childhood and hanging it up to remind me of the happiest times of my life. Even the smells have stayed the same throughout my life; pine, potpourri, dust, and one other smell that I can't place. My brain just tells me it's the smell of winter. After the lights and ornaments comes The Star  We bought The Star before I can remember. We went to the store and let Walter pick it out when he was three. It's tinsel-y and gold, with lights that flash on and off when it's plugged in. We've been meaning to retire the star for years, it's missing several pieces and it's just kind of ugly. One year I accidentally chopped through the chord when I was trimming the top pieces of the tree. But duct tape can mend anything, and since we can't seem to get rid of it, there it blinks, year after year, becoming consecutively uglier with each passing Christmas...but I love it. The Funke family Christmas tree wouldn't be complete without it.
Now that the tree has been up for weeks, yesterday was finally, FINALLY the last day of school before Christmas break. Today I woke up well rested and ridiculously happy when I discovered the quiet blanket of snow falling outside. Right now I'm waiting for the cookie dough to chill in the fridge so that I can make the same sugar cookie cut-outs I've made for my entire life. Some other plans that I have include, but aren't limited to: sledding, visiting relatives in Minnesota, working in Sunday school at  the Christmas Eve service, spending time with my great family, and making them listen to me read Twas The Night Before Christmas on Christmas Eve. I decided the classic Christmas poem should become a tradition a few years ago, and even if everyone else could do without it, I adore it, and can practically quote the poem off the top of my head. I'm not sure why Christmas means all that it does to me. I don't know how I can listen to Christmas music on every day of December and not grow the least bit tired of it, and I don't know why I can't seem to have this many consecutive cheerful days any other time of the year. It's just the way things are. So, whether you feel the way I do about the holidays or don't really care for them at all, let me just be cliché with you for a moment; the holiday season is much more than it's commercial hype. It's a time to be bright, and make the days of others memorable, and a time to define the terms "blessed," "generous," and "grateful" in our lives. Whether you're be celebrating Christmas, Hanukkah, Saturnalia, Boxing day, or Kwanzaa, party it up and make it count. Happy holidays and Merry Christmas!

Let's Be Thankful, Let's Be Glad

Thanksgiving is one of my all-time favorite holidays. Not only the actual day, but the days leading up to it, the mood surrounding it, and the way people treat their world around this time. People appreciate more, and think optimistically. Today I woke up ready for a day of baking and cooking, excited to be able to wear pajamas and no makeup for the entire day. I shuffled out to the kitchen, drank several cups of green tea, ate two eggs, and got to work. The first project on my list was the divine pumpkin-orange cheese cake with a chocolate crust and salted caramel topping. Other than a wrestling match against 3 packs of cream cheese and the mixer, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Something I found out, though: if you want to be thin, DON'T you dare try this recipe. I ended up eating some of the raw filling with a wooden spoon, right out of the mixing bowl. After the cheese cake adventure, I tackled the apple pie from scratch. I had never made a pastry crust, but after yelling, kneading, and A LOT of butter, I had made a fairly decent crust. I mixed up the apple filling, using the secret recipe I use every year, and ended up eating some of that as well. Once I had slit and fluted the top, it went into the oven, and the house started smelling like heaven, just like it does every year. Originally, the cheese cake and the pie were my only two missions for the day, but when I got up this morning, my mom announced in a sad, raspy voice that she had strep throat and that she was going to the doctor in an hour. Since she felt like garbage, Walter and I volunteered to prepare the 22 pound turkey so that she could rest. My brother and I actually did a pretty spectacular job, if I do say so. He cleaned out the giblets and did all the gross stuff while I prepared herb butter and chopped onions and garlic. We put the herb butter under the skin, which made me want to vomit all over the kitchen, and then we filled the cavity with the onions and garlic. I put the spiced on the top and we put it in the roasting bag and into the oven. We were a turkey-tackling team, I think we may have formed a new tradition in the process. The turkey turned out magnificently. My mom and I were also planning to run in Huffing for Stuffing, the Thanksgiving 5k run, but since she obviously is in no shape to do that now, Walter and I are doing that together as well. It's probably our last year of both of us kids living at home, and so I'm happy that we're spending this time together. To me, Thanksgiving is a time to acknowledge whats surrounds us in the present moment. In a year, my life, your life, and everyone elses lives will be radically different. We'll each look back a year from now and remember what we were thankful for. Think of the people you love, the places that are close to  your heart, and the memories that you treasure. If you're feeling particularly bold, tell those people that you are thankful for them. I know that no matter how little I knew a person, if they told me that they were thankful for me, my life would brighten by several watts. When I look back on this year, I will remember what I was thankful for at this time; Campbells soup, wool socks, my family, prayers for peace, thrift store pajamas, a healthy life, Saturdays, the experiences that shape my life, new friends, tiny origami elephants, the Rocky theme song, adventures, and most of all, hope. Never take hopefulness for granted, people. Be thankful, be generous, hug someone, and eat too much pie tomorrow.  -mads

When Life Does Not Waltz

I don't have any potent life lessons. I don't have any revelations. I have no wordy, long-winded sermons on anything of meaning. Not right now at least. To be quite candid, my life is not shining with the brilliant luster that I wish it was. It is quiet, subdued, and every piece of me is hungry for some terrific adventure that I cannot find. I could tell you all to Live-in-the-moment, and make every bit of your life extraordinary, and while I might say it some other time, right now I just can't give advice that I'm not living out. I spend a good part of my nights at home, wearing a Snuggie and practically drowning myself in herbal tea. I sometimes wear mittens while I'm inside, because my hands are perpetually cold and I don't like turning the heat up. I look at pictures of food that I won't let myself eat. I go on monotonous runs through a nearby suburb, and eat canned soup for dinner. My motivation is far smaller than any of the things I should be doing, and as a result I waste a lot of time. I'm not proud of it, and I'm trying to make my moments count, but it's so difficult right now. Sometimes it's so easy, beautiful memories form effortlessly and time waltzes to a smooth melody. Now is not one of those times in my life. Time doesn't waltz, it plods, and no matter how slow they seem, many of the days in each month are hazy and blurred, as if they went by too fast for me to use. However, whether it's true or not, I've come to believe that sometimes things have to be like this, in order for greater things to take shape. Life must rest, just like people must rest, before charging into brave new adventures. If you feel like I do, if you relate to anything that I've written here, than you probably know what a scary feeling it is to feel purposeless, even for a short period of time. But fear not. We'll get through it. Hope for adventure, pray for purpose, work for peace. 
-mads

Letting Go and Moving On

As I've come to learn, partially from my own experience and partially from the words of some very wise friends,  dwelling in your past can stall the progress you hope to attain in the future. I understand, dwelling is easy, it requires no effort, no ambition, only the playback button on the faulty video camera that is our memory. Letting go and moving on are often painful, gut wrenching, and even frightening. What will we be when that relationship, that experience, or that season of our life is over? Will we change? Will there ever be anything that makes us feel the same way again? Worst of all, will the memories fade if we choose to let them go? Contrary to popular belief, letting go is not just a miserable time in which you give up, and wait around for that broken heart to slowly scab and eventually scar. In fact, letting go requires time and effort. Tons of it. Life in general is painful, even without the struggle to move on from a momentous event, so if you're struggling to let go and move on, here's what I have to say:
It happened, it was incredible, and your life was changed, but now it's over. And that's ok. A crucial part of letting go or moving on is the acceptance that it is over. You know that wonderful Hallmark-y saying? "Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Though it may sound corny, it is true. It took me the longest time to figure that one out, and actually live it rather that repeat it like a mantra. If you are afraid of your memories fading, either write them down, or trust that your brain will cherish the most important ones for when you need them most. Next, you need to learn that while you may be tied to that event, and it is a part of you, you are not simply a part of it. You have bigger dreams, a thoroughly interesting future, and a complex life. You continue to exist and build your life even when it seems like the best part of it is over. Fret not, there will be other best parts of your life, whether you believe it or not. It doesn't matter if you can't figure a bit of your life out on your own. God knows what He's doing. Last, letting go and moving on won't happen over night. You have to work for healing and growth, and it might take a very, very long time. But never give up, because one day you will wake up and you will feel different, better. Not whole yet by any means, but hopeful, with the shiny shimmers of a bright future ahead. Your memories will have moved from your head to your heart, no longer overwhelming all your thoughts and causing you pain, but quieter, safer, in a place where they can stay forever. On that day, you will have taken one step towards moving on, and the rest will follow when the time is right. Be patient, be hopeful. Thanks for reading,
-mads

Be Nicer Than Me.

You know those people who you simply CANNOT tolerate? We all have them, the people in our lives that every single thing that escapes their mouths makes us want to tear all our hair out and every single thing they do makes us want to jump off the roof just to get away from them. I tell other people to be patient with them, I tell myself to be patient with them, but somehow, when faced with one of these least-favorite people, I forget all too quickly. A situation that is pertinent to this topic occurred today, while I sat in U.S. History, minding my own business. I sit near the front of the room, close to the projector screen. We were watching a historical film about the 13 colonies, in which actors in powdered wigs prance around in front of a backdrop, declaring independence doing all those things that they did back then. Since the nice, quiet girl who usually sits behind me was gone, a certain intolerable individual came from his seat in the back of the room to sit in all-too-near proximity to me in that empty desk, intent on getting the BEST possible view of a movie no one really cares about. At the start of the film I was mildly annoyed just because he was near me, but when his legs hit the back of my desk for the millionth time, and once I realized he was being a brat on purpose, I lost a bit of my cool, whipped around and demanded rather rudely "MOVE your legs. Now." he swore at me under his breath, but I did not care in the least. I was working on pretending he wasn't there when he decided to intrude on my feet with his feet. Why a person would think they need the room under their desk AND mine is beyond me, yet there he was anyway, tapping me feet with his, pretending that they weren't my feet and that I didn't actually want to punch his teeth out. That time I almost lost it completely, and giving him the eyes of death, said loud enough for most everyone to hear, "WHAT IS YOUR DEAL!?" He wasn't thrilled about that either, but I've heard all those words before. So, I was not patient today. I am guilty of being a controlling and cranky teenage girl. On top of it all, the room smelled like feet. I blamed it on him. I shouldn't have been impatient, I shouldn't have yelled at him. I tell you this because I understand, sometimes people are terrible, but learn from my mistakes, and be a nice person, because things will be happier if you do.