Weaved

 Weaved, written by Brie (17 years old)

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The night was coming to a close, and she could feel her body slowing down as it prepared to sleep. She sat upon her bed, an open notebook and pen atop her lap. She picked up the pen and lightly tapped it against her knee, something she did regularly when she was stuck.
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Writer's block, she thought to herself.
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She uncrossed her long legs and stretched them out as she yawned. She leaned back against the sturdy wall behind her and started twisting her blonde hair. Waiting for something inspiring to hit her, she twirled and unraveled golden strands, twisting the ends with her fingers. And then she began to braid. She absentmindedly separated her hair into three sections and started crossing each over the other until a braid was formed.
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Looking at her braid in the mirror across the room from her, she pondered it's simplicity. It was so beautiful, the way the hair weaved in and out, like ripples in a flowing river. She grabbed the end of her braid and thought, My life is like a braid.
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And with that, the pen in her hand burst into life.
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She was entirely made up of thousands - if not millions - of things, but she decided to categorize.
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1. Heart & Soul. Her spirit, her beliefs, and her morals.

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2. Gifts & Flaws. Her intelligence, her talents, and her quirks.

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3. Self-Inflicted & Completely Out Of My Control. Her trials, her hardships, and her heartaches - both internal and external.

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She began to sort the different aspects of her life into these three categories. After several minutes, her body began to grow even more tired. As she set down her pen, she felt satisfied with how her list was ending up.

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She was who she was because of those three categories. She had been weaved, with all the best of intentions, into the person she was today.

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She closed her notebook quietly and set it aside. As she climbed out of her bed, she ran her hand down the braid again and smiled. She knelt down and offered up a prayer of thanks and complete gratitude for who she was and who she was becoming.

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The greatest part of the braid is the elastic that's holding it all in place - she decided this was the partnership of her Father in Heaven and His son, Jesus Christ. Without them, she'd fall apart.

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On the very edge of reality and a dream, she climbed up and fell heavily onto her bed. In no time at all, her heavy eyelids succumbed to sleep.

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My sweet daughter, Brie, is an inspiration to me. She has been blessed with such a wonderful gift - being able to express herself through the written word. I admire her strength  and her willingness to share her love of the gospel.
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Here she is, probably a decade ago, sportin' some pretty cute braids. :) How quickly time moves forward.

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The Green Eyed Boy

My daughter, Brie (16), has an amazing gift -  the gift of expression through the written word.  She keeps a blog filled with inspiration, fashion, and occasional teenage drama.  :)  This was her most recent post.  Once you read it, you'll know why I chose to share it here.

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It's allergy season. Nasty allergies. All of yesterday, I fought with my body to keep it going. My family and I bought tickets to a country concert, and we were all excited! As I sat, though, I noticed my head began to gain weight. I could hardly keep my eyes open. Five sneezes came out, and I apologized, and looked at my mom, pleadingly. She told me to lie my head down on my sister's shoulder. So I did. I fought more to keep my eyes open, but eventually I just gave in.

Have you ever dreamt while sick? I have... it's weird.
This is a dream I had. I added more to it, to give it life, but I very much saw this all.

As I shut my real eyes, my dreams eyes awoke.
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I was standing in a field of wheat grass with a dirt road below me. I turned around and saw a hand extended out towards me. The hand was tough, strong. It looked like it had worked for years, building and fixing and creating. My gaze followed the length of the arm and realized this hand belonged to a boy. The boy seemed a little older than me, and he stood a good half a foot taller than me. I squinted in the brilliant sunlight to see his face. He had chocolate brown hair, tousled and thick, and his eyes were a shade of green more beautiful than a maple tree in the early weeks of spring. As he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the edges, which clearly meant he smiled often. Behind his smile, though, a hint of sadness could be seen in his eyes. He shrugged and put his hand out a little farther, silently hoping I would take it.

I did.

He led me down the dirt road, often glancing back and then sheepishly turning around again when we made eye contact. His grip was firm and comforting. He instinctively tightened his grip as a breeze passed over the valley. I smiled at the gesture. We walked like this for some time; hands locked, him leading, me following.

As time passed, we suddenly approached a split in the road. There was a sign that marked where either of the two roads would take us. The left side read, "Happiness" while the right side read, "Fame and Fortune." To me, the choice seemed simple and easy. It was my turn to take the lead, so I stepped in front and motioned for him to follow me to the left. I tried to move forward, but he wouldn't budge. He stared at the sign, his smile gone and the crinkles turning in to worry lines.

I turned my head to the side, unsure of why he wasn't following me, and tried to meet his eyes, but he looked down instead. I looked over at the right road, and drew in a quick breath. Along the road, the trees were dotted with silver, the flowers were sparkling rubies and sapphires, and a river of liquid gold shined in the sunlight. Farther down, I could hear the distant sounds of music, twisted and evil-sounding beats. I could see people dancing and drinking something, which also happened to sparkle. It looked like they were having the time of their lives. I suddenly had this want to be there, to be with all of them. To fit in, to be 'normal,' to be in the middle of it all. To feel power like that, to have everything I thought I ever wanted. To be popular, to be rich, to be famous.

I slowly glanced back over to the left road as a single tear rolled down my cheek. There was only one tree, rich in green leaves and aged in years. It seemed to speak of wisdom and knowledge, as its leaves shook in the breeze, but its dark trunk stood still. For some reason, while looking at this side of the road, I couldn't hear the distant sounds of the party. The left road extended over a hill, which meant you couldn't tell where it led. I knew I had to go this way. I just knew I had to.

At this moment, I realized I was still holding onto his hand. I looked up at him, and in a moment of pain, saw him turn his head to the right and start to walk toward the party. I cried and yelled at him, but nothing escaped my mouth. My voice fell upon deaf ears. I fell to my knees and pleaded for him to come with me. Tears were streaming freely now, and I had no time to wipe them. As he continued to walk away from me, I scrambled to my feet and grabbed his arm. I turned him around to face me and mouthed the words, "Have faith."

Now it was his turn. Tears fell from his beautiful green eyes and he slowly collapsed to the ground. Everything seemed real now, and I could hear his sobs and could hear my words of comfort escaping my mouth. I repeated over and over, "Have faith, believe me, have faith, please!" He looked up at me and that sadness I had seen earlier was completely visible now. I bent down and wiped a tear from his cheek.

He suddenly spoke, his voice deep and meaningful, scared and unsure. He whispered, "I don't know if I can make it." I let out a half sob, half laugh, and pulled him up off his feet. He combed one of his strong hands through his chocolate brown hair and bit his lower lip. I held out my hand and said, "You can make it." I smiled as he took my hand and those smile lines reappeared on his face. "Just look," I said, "Look at how the sun is setting ever so slowly over the hill. That's hope. The truth is just over the hill. We can't give up now! See that tree? It's our guardian. The other road has no guardian, no hope, no truth."

Without saying a word, he linked his fingers in mine. This time he was the one who led me across to the left side of the road.

I awoke suddenly as the bass drum shook the whole arena.

I breathed in. I breathed out.

I felt at peace, yet so incredibly alone without my green-eyed boy.