My sister: "Are you starting, like, blog #10?"

Me: "Uh...yeah."

Hi friends! I started blog #10. (Actually, if you look at the records, it's blog #6, which is almost as scary.) 

No doubt about it, I've been around for awhile. Who'd have thought back in 2013 when I started typing away as a fourteen-year-old bookworm that I'd still be as addicted to blogging almost six years later! Some of you have been reading my stuff from almost the very beginning, which is amazing to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's read my articles over all these years, if you're still out there. You are the reader to my writer and that's an extremely important relationship, even if I've never seen you face-to-face or ever will.

If you haven't had enough of me and would like to follow along with my next adventures, you're in luck - I'm still writing. My new blog is emmasbiggirlboots.wordpress.com, where I'm writing about my new adventures as a college student, a first responder, and everything else.

Bye!

Emma

PASSED.

6.11.18

     We were all nervous.

     Justin had huge sweat stains on his t-shirt. Amber threw up outside and Marion bit all his nails off. We stood there in the hallway, like teenagers waiting for a high school musical audition. After four months of class, we had come to the first part of our examination - the practicals. They called us in one by one to the stations, and in between I bounced off the walls and guzzled water and tried to breathe deep. My respirations were over 30; I was a high priority case.

    Was it a good idea to take EMT in four months? I've wondered. Good idea or not, it's been one of the best experiences of my life. All those late nights at class I wouldn't trade for anything. The whole thing would be worth it for the friends I made, even if I didn't pass my exam.

    After I had completed all my stations, there was nothing to do but wait. A minute later my teacher Josh came to get me. "Come on into the kitchen," he said, meaning the fire hall kitchen. (We have a very professional set-up.) There I would find out my score. There, I would find out if I had passed my practical exam and could go on to the state test.

     The woman shook my hand. "You passed all your stations. Congratulations!"

     "Oh," I said, and kind of wobbled on my feet. Josh laughed.

      It's one of the most rewarding feelings ever to work so hard for something, and then accomplish what you set out to do. I have doubted myself so much over this whole endeavor, then started to believe I could do it, doubted again, and went back to believing I could, maybe, be an EMT.

     I am so proud of all my classmates. I am so glad it's over! I am so glad it happened. I PASSED MY PRACTICAL! Now all I have to do is take the state written test. Piece of cake. Or so they say...
   

Grandpa

My Grandpa made the best popcorn. It took him minutes and he didn't have to think about it at all, but that's the way it is with a gift.

Making popcorn was only one of Grandpa's gifts. He made depressing things ok, and even funny. We would go to pick blueberries at the end of the season when they were almost gone. After an hour or so one evening, Grandpa said, "Nobody should have to suffer like this." One year - many years - it rained so much in the spring our corn got flooded and only came up in places. "No corn," Grandpa said, and I laughed, because it was ok. 

He called my cat "big fat old ugly kitty" and he called my rabbits "levites." He called my mom "Nance" and my cousin "Mary Belle." He called me "Brown Eyes" and "Little Girl." He thought I drove too fast, but he still taught me how when I bought my first truck. He loved Little House on the Prairie, but he wouldn't let us watch M*A*S*H, which came on afterward. 

Sadie and Molly and I would go to the Church of God with Grandma and Grandpa some Sundays in the summer. When Grandpa got bored during the sermon, he drew pictures on the bulletin. He drew my cat Oliver inside a wishing well. He drew a "dead apple tree," and he wrote about how Bill Grogan's goat was tied to the railroad tracks after eating three shirts off the line.

These are only my memories - I had him for nineteen years. I didn't deserve to have him. That's the way it is with a gift.

******

It's very hard to sit in that church without Grandpa.

The hardest part was the singing. He loved our singing. He loved people. He loved all of us, and love makes me cry. I think of that night with all of us in the hospital around him, singing, soaking up borrowed time. That time was sweeter than any I have ever spent with my family because of it. He gave that time to us and He made it enough. That's the way it is with a gift.

******

If I close my eyes, he's there, all dressed up in flannels to go into the blackberry patch. He's stacking wood, making sure the ends are just right. He's sitting out there in my audience, clapping for my sisters and me. He's pitting cherries at the dining room table making jokes about breaking teeth on cherry pits. He's walking across the parking lot carrying pies down to the stand. 

I miss you, Grandpa, and I can't wait to see you again.

It's gone. I sent it.

      I stuffed it all into a big yellow envelope, drove down to the post office and dropped the dang thing in the box. It's out of my hands and into the Lord's. (Well, first the postman's, but then ultimately the Lord's.) 

     What, you may ask? Why, my college application. The thing that makes the college decide whether or not they want to deal with me for the next two years of my life.

     To assist the admissions board with this very daunting decision, I was required to write two essays, one of them on a topic of my choice that holds personal importance. I could have written about farming or playing music or weedwhacking around the mailbox, but I've written about all those things many times before (jk I've never written about weedwhacking, though  maybe I should think about doing it...). I went for something fresh, something that's become a big part of my life in the last year, which is the volunteer fire department. 

 

     The application called for no more than 650 words - I could literally write an entire book about my first seven months in the fire department, but we'll save that for later. As it was I had to shave down my essay quite a bit, but I'm sharing the un-edited version here on the blog in case it's of interest to anyone.

     So what do you think. Will the college folks like this?

Volunteers

By

 Emma Anderson

      Think of every small town in the US that you’ve ever lived in, seen, or driven through. Where I live, some of them don’t have much. A gas station, a drug store, a car repair shop, maybe a stoplight. Some towns just aren’t big on the glitz and glamor. But tell me something. No matter how tiny, rural, and far-removed from any sizable city, what is one thing that every community in the US has to offer?

      That’s right: the volunteer fire department. 

    I have yet to find a town, or village or hamlet or borough or whistle-stop, that does not have a volunteer fire department. 

    Why is this? It is because we need these people, these public servants, no matter who we are or where we live, whether it’s far out in the boondocks or right in the middle of a thriving suburb. The volunteer fire department is an essential part of any community because of the irreplaceable service and dependability they provide to their citizens.

     Though it is an important part of my life now, the fire service is not something I ever thought I would be a part of. Growing up nextdoor to our town fire station, the most I knew about it was that the whistle went off every Tuesday night around 7:30 when they ran the radio check. As I grew older and got to know firefighters from my own and neighboring departments, I began to get a better picture of what the volunteers actually do. It sounded to me like a great adventure. I had never done any kind of service for my community before. At age eighteen, thinking it was time to remedy this lack of community involvement, I submitted an application and was soon voted in. 

     Even though the station is built on land my grandfather used to own, I am the first of my family to join. I was the first new member the department had seen in a long time, and the only girl. I think I scared them as much as they scared me. 

     I soon found out that the volunteer fire department is a unique entity. It is a branch of civil service, sometimes a social club, but mainly a community of ordinary, everyday citizens who are part of something extraordinary. As an emergency service, it’s not always taken seriously, due to the small number of members in most departments and the lack of training that is often seen in a volunteer situation. As a local resource, however, it’s one of the best things we have.

     A fire department encompasses much more than -- and I quote -- “putting the wet stuff on the red stuff.” We give back to the community in many different ways, with EMS services, auto extrication, water rescue, tech rescue, and of course fire rescue. All of these are responsibilities of the fire department; some more than others, depending on your district and your protocols. But the main goal of the volunteer department is a universal one, and that is to provide help when a disaster strikes. 

     Being an emergency responder, whether it be in fire or EMS or both, is about coming to the aid of someone who is in trouble. A fire department has a contract with their town. They provide a service that they are pledged to uphold. If they don't do that, there is a problem.

     My volunteer department is made up of blue-collar working men, retired state troopers, servicemen, and one eager farmgirl. There are firemen with decades of experience and knowledge, and there’s me, who is learning more all the time. We are small, but when we come together we are mighty. Though it has been less than a year since I joined, already I’ve seen time after time my guys go in there and do their thing, bravely and efficiently, where others didn’t have the training or didn’t have the will. Other times, they have taken hours out of their day to help somebody with the most trivial of problems, like pumping out a basement flooded with two feet of water, or getting up at four in the morning to haul a generator down to the corner stoplight that lost power because of a rainstorm.

     Roughly 70% of firefighters in the US are volunteer. Volunteers are on call all the time, every day, any of the year. They do not receive a dollar for it. Not a paycheck, not a pension, not a tax break. It’s a thankless job at times. Other times, the glory we’re awarded is overwhelming.

    There is a common mindset I have noticed in the volunteers from my department. When things go wrong, you deal with them the best you can. Whether it’s a fully engulfed house fire, or a car wreck, or a call at three A.M. for a nosebleed, or just the new girl backing the ambulance into the door of the truck bay*, the volunteers take it in stride. It’s what they’re best at.

     At the end of the day it’s not about the fancy helmets or the lights and sirens. Being a volunteer in the fire department is about being ready to step in when you’re needed. It is one of the most honorable services I can think of, and one I am proud to be a part of.

(*I did actually do this.)

dusk & sounds

      My sister and I drove home the other night at dusk, and my window was down and I could hear the peepers screeching. "It's cold," she said. "I know," I replied, but didn't roll up my window. No way sister. The sound of peepers in the late muggy spring is my favorite sound in the whole world.

    So many sounds. Another one is a diesel engine. Man, I used to hang on the tire swing every night at closing, and Saturday nights we watched the trucks go by on their way to Stateline Speedway and fawned over the jacked-up diesel trucks that would make me roll my eyes now. Booking down the road with that rumbling under your seat, you feel like you're on top of the whole dang world.

    And thunder. Especially at night. When the bedroom windows are open and the curtains blow across the dresser, those curtains Grandma made out of the top sheets from my old bed set. So powerful and frightening that it comforts you all over, like a scolding given in love from a Father you don't have to doubt.

     What about bootfalls on pavement, or a garage door opening late at night telling you that everyone's in, or the Dr. Quinn opening music, or the many voices in a crowd before the concert starts, or oil sizzling in a frying pan, or seagulls in a Chick-Fil-A parking lot, or the crackle of a casette tape. At dusk on a summer day the lake calms down and it's so quiet you can hear it.

     Just feeling grateful for my ears tonight. Among a lot of things.

spring break // 2018

People always say this, but I'm going to say it again because no matter how many times you say something it doesn't make it any less true: 

the Lord's plans are not our plans. His timing is not our timing, and His ways are definitely not our ways. They're higher and they will prevail every.single.freaking.time. And sometimes, in our human perception, they suck.

I've heard this all my life, and I still need to remind myself of it before I get too confident on my own high horse and think I've got control of my every move. The truth is I have zero control, and I'm pretty sure the Lord knows that the best way to drill this reality into my head is to let me experience it up-close and personal.

Nearing the middle of this semester at college, I was feeling done. (Done in this instance means any one of frustrated, exhausted, incapable, or starting to hate all my teachers, not literally finished, because unfortunately this is only my first year.) I was holding out until Easter break, when I could forget it all for a little while, and the sun would come out, and we could wear short sleeves and go places and watch movies and make cookies like I didn't have time to. Mike and I had such wonderful plans for break and all the things we could do. My sister Sadie had been sick for a week, but I was still feeling great, and in my proud head, there was no way I was getting sick.

(You see where this is going, don't you?)

I got sick. My mom got sick. Sadie stayed sick (with me, which was really nice of her.) My dad got sick. Molly came home from school, made it through Easter, went back to school and got sick. (Shocker.) So I spent my whole first week of break in bed, I had no voice to sing Easter morning, and had a nasty cough following me for the rest of my second week. Not what I had planned. At all.

Part of me was like, what the heck? Here it is Easter weekend and my whole family feels like literal crap, when we need to be celebrating the Savior! Part of me was a little mad. But I know how I am, and I know how He speaks to me. I kept thinking, Yes, Lord, I get it. I'm not happy about this but I get it.

It's humbling. That you can still worship the Lord when you do feel like literal crap -- and you should. That you can settle for less than your best, because it's not about your strengths and whatever you're capable of. Cause here's the thing, my friends, and you already know this: we are really, really weak. In fact we're useless, without the Savior in us. When we forget He's there, and edge Him out on what should be His control in us...well, He's in control in the end, and He's going to get that across. It might come on like a cool spring breeze, but more than likely it's going to come on more like a sore throat and a headache.

I didn't get to travel far and wide while I was on break, but I did learn a few things. I'm blown-away grateful for a guy who will come to my house and spoon-feed me when I look like crap just because he wants to, and for a family who can still make me laugh when we're all in the same rocking boat. 

Sara Groves, in her song called This Cup, sings about our "chasm of need" as humans. I love this phrase so much. Do you know what a chasm is? It's defined as a "deep fissure in the earth, rock, or other surface" or  "a profound difference between people, viewpoints, feelings, ect." I'm going to combine those two and call it a "profound fissure between what we need and what we can provide for ourselves." That's where our Savior comes in. That's why He was sent, worked, died, and came back -- because we have such a huuuuuuuge chasm of need that we can never, ever fill or compensate for. But that chasm is erased, and so I can stand in Christ, and run and dance and sing (even when my throat is swollen and I have no voice!) and be lacking in nothing because my spirit is full, and my need is no more.

See? I'm blown away.

Easter never disappoints. This whole past week I've been thinking about it, and slowly getting back my health, and I have gotten to do some of the things I wanted to over break. Nothing has been a mistake, about my silly little disappointments, down to the serious details of my life. I may not have wanted it that way, but I don't know. His ways are not my ways; His ways are far, far above and better.

***************

the fever

    Today the sun was shining until 7 O'CLOCK PM and when I took the dogs out walking I wasn't sinking my feet into two feet of snow with every step, and the birds were talking to me, and my fingers didn't feel numb and close to falling off and I didn't get an ice cream headache with every inhale. 

    I feel like taking the whole house apart, cleaning everything down with lemon juice and baking soda, painting furniture and doors and airing my quilt outside on the line.

    I put on CELTIC WOMAN and started singing songs I haven't thought of the words to in five years.

   And I realized that no matter how busy I am, no matter what is most important to me or whatever becomes imminently important in that moment, there is one thing that will always hound me and chase me and pester me to no end if I don't do it. And that's writing.

     It's still 30 degrees outside and there's probably going to be ice on my windshield tomorrow morning, but this is the first day that I've felt Spring.

(I think Henley feels it too.)

    

     I never used to understand why people loved Friday so much and thought Friday was just the greatest and named restaurants because of this and thank goodness, it's Friday!!! Because I worked on weekends, and I didn't have that much of a workload with part-time college that it didn't make one bit of difference what day of the week it was, everything was chill. 

    Such is not the case anymore, and everything is not chill. Everything is very demanding, and exciting, but sometimes I go too fast and lose track of my priorities, my time with the Lord, and what I need to give the people I love. I am very pleased with every Wednesday that passes by; when Friday gets here, it really is time to celebrate. Especially since there is a man who is six-four and comes to pick me up in his big black truck.

   **********

     There are lots of things that make me happy. Mint ice cream makes me happy. A tank full of gas makes me happy. My guy makes me extremely happy. But when something is a gift given directly from my Father in Heaven, there's nothing better in the world, and that's what Spring is. Every single year, when the sun comes out again after six months of gray and you feel the start of warmth on your back dripping down to your shoes and seeping into your spine, that's not something a finite human being can produce. The goodness and lovingkindness of our Father is something that never ceases, and when you accept it, He never, ever leaves you wanting.

    I'm so happy right now I think I'll scream. : )

   

**********

   How was your week? I'm so happy to be back here writing! Hopefully I'll be back around more often in the next few weeks.

<3 Emma

when life {or social media} gives you buffalo....

     I don't understand it. First it happened with pinterest, and now it's happening with instagram. I'm constantly getting pictures of buffalo in my feed.

     How do they know I love buffalo?!

     The internet creeps me out sometimes.

   

Nevertheless, I am grateful for the buffalo pictures they give me.

Something about that silhouette makes you feel ready to take on life with a new ferocity. 

They exude a feeling of tranquility as well.

Aren't they the best animals ever???

^^^^ Those are muskox, but I like them too.

^^^^ I like this one. Look at the size of that guy. I'm going to call him Bruce. 

I could go on all day, really.

********

It's President's Day today, and there is no school. For some reason this made me want to put lipstick on. I have been doing strange things like that lately; last week I got tired of simply going to school and sitting in a chair all day, and so I took my running shoes, went up to the track above the gym, and started to run. This is extremely odd because I have not run since....well, ever. The only time you'll ever see me run is if someone's chasing me or something's on sale. But I ran, and it actually felt pretty good.

It felt good until the next day. When I got out of bed, I fell on the floor. My legs! What had happened?! They were...gone!

I looked down, and they were still there, but I couldn't feel them. I took a step and regained feeling, but it felt like thousands of tiny pins were stuck in every square inch of flesh. It was absolutely horrible.

It's been four days and my legs finally feel alright again. My sister, who is home from college for the long weekend, just walked into the room and asked if I would like to go running with her.

Sure!

~Emma <3

1.27.18

The land knows you, even when you are lost.

~ Robin Wall Kimmerer, 

Braiding Sweetgrass

     My sister Molly turned 22 this past Saturday. My mom, my other sister, and a few various relatives of questionable character made the 2+ hour trip to surprise her at college. I was going to go with the evening before, but as events unfolded I ended up making the drive up the next morning by myself. They told Molly I wasn't coming because I was called in to work at the last minute, so it was a surprise when I showed up the next morning, holding a giant pink troll pillow in front of my face at that. (I would have screamed too, had I been on the receiving end of that situation.)

     Heading out in the early morning by myself, heading eastward on I-86, I was reminded of the weeks last Spring when I drove my neighbor to her therapy appointments. She loved my little truck, and raved on and on about how wonderful it was. We would talk the entire hour it took to get there, and the entire hour back, stopping at the gas station on the Indian reservation to fuel up because at the time it was 30 cents cheaper there than at home.

     I thought of that, and then as I drove further into less familiar territory, through one county after another, I thought of the day two years ago when my sister Sadie and I went to visit my cousin where he goes to school. We took some of the very same back roads I was driving then.

     I flipped through local radio stations, caught some of American Pie on one, the tail end of Hotel California on another. I sped through areas where the speed limit wasn't marked. I was giddy with pleasure, because it was a beautiful morning and I was on the road where I wanted to be.

     When you're on the road, you pick up a little piece of every place you pass through. That's why I like to go the back roads rather than the straight, boring Interstate; you see more of the real world that way. Big farms, double-wide trailers, and pristine Amish houses lined the road at intervals. The poorest county in NY state is also the most beautiful. And maybe this is just me, but when I've been someplace, no matter how long ago it was, if I ever pass there again I'll remember. It's weird, almost like a sixth sense. The sense of direction.

     What is it about the land?

     When I was growing up, and still now (well, I guess I'm still growing up, :) I always had an acute awareness of the land. Maybe because I grew up working with it. People want a nice house, nice car, nice clothes. I want all of that too, of course, but I always wanted land. I wanted to see it and explore it and own it. The beautiful thing, too, is that you don't even have to own it; as long as you have feet, or wheels, anyplace you go to becomes yours. At least that's the way I've always felt about it.

     After being at school all week, and working, and trying to prove things to people that I'm not too sure of myself, it was life-giving to get behind the wheel and just go. The places I've been make me feel welcomed with familiar feelings, and the places I see for the first time offer me something I've never had before.

     It's the little things like this I think the Lord gives us when He knows we need to be reminded. :)

******

     The birthday celebration was very nice. I don't have any pictures to show for it because the storage on my phone is completely full, but it involved our first-ever experience with Air B'nB, shopping for a wedding dress (not for my sister) (for me) (JUST KIDDING), and trading keys and driving other people's cars. I didn't get to see my sister nearly enough but I'm still glad I got to see her at all. :) Mercifully they went to Panera Bread the night before I got there.

     Now it's back to the daily grind.... How was your weekend?

~ Emma

baptized by argon

I want to start out this post with a little picture of my surroundings at the moment, because I'm so grateful to be where I am right now: at home, for the first evening in a while, sitting on my desk typing and listening to John Mellencamp. I've been at college since 8 this morning, and while I love it, you can't go around blasting Petty and Mellencamp in the college library. It's not academically accepted. At home, I can do this, and since I don't find myself here as much as I used to be, I'm taking advantage of the opportunity.

Like I mentioned, I love college. In fact I'm completely shocked by how much I love it. Who would have ever thought that Emma, who used to scribble nasty things all over her math book at the kitchen table, would be this happy to go to school full-time?! I guess it just goes to show how many things have changed in a few years' time. I appreciate a lot of things I didn't used to, and going to college is sure one of them. 

 My intention in writing this is not to talk about how much I love school, because that's not a topic a lot of people want to hear about seeing as it kind of makes me sound dreamy-eyed and fake.

 What I really want to do is tell you about one of my classes in particular, because it's something way different than anything I've done before. Besides that I think I ought to write about it before I go back tomorrow, maybe give myself some fresh perspective and keep myself from freaking out prematurely.

************

I'm talking about my welding class!

Why, you ask, am I taking welding?

Welding is an extremely useful skill to have, especially for people who a) work on farm equipment, and b) work on cars, both of which things I want to know how to do. There's a pretty good welding program at my school, so I'd heard some about it, but to tell you the truth, the main reason I registered for Applied Welding this semester isn't why most people get into it. Last semester I took only three classes, one of which I loved but still breezed through easily and two of which were such a - well, joke - that I got the idea college in general was going to be a big travesty. So when it came time to register for Spring classes I really wanted to make myself work a little harder. And I liked the sound of 'applied.'

So I'm taking welding.

I'm getting used to doing a lot of things most people don't expect me to do. In my fire department I'm the only girl, and the only active member under 40 years old, and so it's not weird anymore to be surrounded by men who smoke and swear and act all tough. In fact it's getting to be normal. In my welding class there's one other girl; most of the students are men, past college-age, who work for the engine plant in town and are being paid by their company to take this "skilled trades" program. Even their books are being paid for, which isn't really fair, but I'm not complaining.

The first day of class, my teacher went over the syllabus, gave us some rough safety guidelines, and gave us a test on the kinds of light rays produced by metal arc welding that can blind you. This scared me a little, but I like being scared a little.

The second day of class, the teacher walked in and sat down with the newspaper in his hand. He then proceeded to read the headlines, as well as comment on the spelling and pronunciation of people's names. He then talked for a little while about welding techniques, and soon we were dismissed to the shop down the hall. This was when I started to get more than a little scared, because I realized we were actually going to start welding. 

I have never been in a welding shop in my life. I have never even seen it done. I barely know what it is, or that's what I was thinking then, when they handed me a leather coat and a helmet and some gloves about ten sizes too big for my hands. I looked at the teacher, but I couldn't figure out what he was going to make me do. He's one of those people who is so smart and knows what they're teaching so well, that they can't even remember what it was like to not know a thing about it, and so it's pretty impossible for them to go back to level zero and explain it to someone who's never held an electrode in all their life and doesn't even know which end to put into the clamp and which to touch to the metal. I realized that he had done all the explaining he was going to do. I followed the other guys into the shop and took my spot at one of the tables in between two of the screens. Behind me was a big electric welder and a cylinder of compressed argon, and on my workstation was a chipper, a brush, and a handful of electrodes. I was given a scrap piece of metal to practice on, and that was it.

Of course, some of these old-timers had done this before. In no time the sounds of torches and chipping and the forced ventilators over every station filled up the space around me, and the smell of  heated metal stung my senses. I looked at the machine behind me, set to 124 amperes (do you know how many amperes it takes to kill a person?), looked in my hand, at the clamp holding the electrode, and pulled the helmet shield over my eyes. All I could see was black.

My first thought was, I am going to die.

Either from asphyxiation, or the ultraviolet light rays when I accidentally looked at the torch flame, or I'd catch on fire from the sparks flying underneath the screen from the guy welding next to me. Or I'd inhale the gas fumes filling up the air around me and pass out dead on the floor before I could even scream for help. I'm going to die, I thought, and I'm not even going to know it.

In such a case, some would give up, but not Emma. Unfortunately the teacher had left the premises. My plan was to go find him and tell him to come hold my hand while I acclimated myself to the foreign surroundings.

But at that point I had the electrode in my hand, stuck in the clamp, and I didn't know how to get it out without squeezing the handle to release it. But wait, I thought, isn't that how you get it to light? I had watched the guy next to me do it and I thought so. How in the heck were you supposed to get the rod out of there without lighting it up and burning up your hand or your face or the whole building? I couldn't set it down, or the whole place for sure would go up. I stood there and pondered this issue for a few geological ages, until the guy on the other side of my screen poked his head around. Probably because he didn't hear any action from my direction and assumed I was dead.

"How's it going?" he asked, when he saw that I was, in fact, still standing.

"It's not," I said. "How do you get this thing" - I pointed, looking dumb, "out of this thing?"

He acted like he knew, but I don't think he really did either, because I saw him flinch a little as he yanked the rod out. He thought it might explode too. But maybe that was just because I looked so terrified.

With that small problem taken care of, I flopped in my oversized jacket out to find the teacher. The good-for-nothing son-of-a-gun was over in the other part of the room, having a good old time moving sheets of metal around with a forklift. I made myself known to him. 

"Do you have a piece of string I can tie around my gloves? They keep falling off," I said, because I didn't want him to know I didn't know how to light the rod.

He hopped off the forklift and looked me up and down. He scratched his head. "What size coat are you wearing?" he said.

After giving me some duct tape to wrap around my gloves, we went into his office. There I took off my coat, which was a 2XL. He looked around for a small, but, not being able to find one, gave me a large instead, which was some improvement. "How's it going?" he asked, which is the way men always say it, even when they don't give a crap.

I should have used the Monty Python line - "I'm not dead yet!" - but I don't know the guy too well and frankly, I wasn't in the mood to be funny. "I'm getting used to it," I said instead, which was partly true. I was getting used to the loud chipping all around me, at least, to the point where I could barely hear it anymore. In fact, I could barely hear anything. But I was gratified to find I still had my eyesight, which was my main concern because I had to drive home.

I went back to my little cubicle, with duct tape on my wrists, looking like an idiot and feeling faint. I thought, this is stupid. A lot of these guys have done this before; I'll just go watch one of them. I went to the guy nextdoor, where all the sparks were coming from. "Can I watch you?" I said.

"Sure, you can watch," he said. "I'm terrible at this. I've never done it before."

Well, I thought, you're sure going at it pretty hard for never having done it before. Sparks were flying like a forest fire over there. I decided he might not be the best one to observe and started to back away, tripping on the cord from the welder behind me.

"Luke over there is pretty good, he's done it before," the guy said. So I went over to Luke, who is shorter than me but wears a 2XL coat. "Can I watch you?" I said.

"Sure," he said, "I don't care."

The thing about welding is, you can't look at what you're doing, or you will go blind. You have to wear the helmet, and the thing about the helmet is, you can't see anything but the torch flame when you're welding. This means that before you light it, you can't see what you're doing, so you have to almost position the rod, then quickly flip your shield down before you touch it. That's what lights it, by the way - just the touch. You don't squeeze anything or push anything. They forgot to tell Emma that.

I watched Luke for awhile, and he seemed pretty chill. "Ok thanks," I said, and proceeded back to my own home base. I picked up the clamp and fit the rod into it. I took a deep breath, but that was a bad idea because all I got was fumes. I put my helmet down and closed my eyes, which was overkill because I couldn't see anyway, but I couldn't be careful enough. The rod hit the metal and it lit.

There! I could see it! It was green and scary, like the evil spirits in Disney princess movies. Suddenly the flame stopped. I tried to rip the rod away but it stuck. Well, darn, I thought. This can't be good. I tried ripping it again, and this time it disconnected. I flipped up my shield. There was a weld there, and underneath a big old black spot, like where a crater hits the earth. My weld looked like the one in picture examples where they say, here's a good weld, here's a bad one, this one's too long, this one's too short. Mine looked like the very worst of the worst. But I was flying on the wings of joy. I had actually done it!

No matter everyone else around me, including the other girl, had been practicing for hours now and had started on their projects. I had lit the torch! I had made a weld! And even better, I was still alive and breathing! I felt like celebrating. I didn't feel like trying it again.

I was still there for a few more hours though, so I figured I had better. I kept getting the rod stuck over and over again and I was getting rather depressed. After awhile my neighbor to the left stuck his head around again. "Getting the hang of it?"

 "I'm having trouble with it sticking," I told him. He turned my amperes up, which freaked me out, and then told me to try it. What a huge difference! "Thanks!" I said. What would I do without the working man here? Teacher-boy over there sure isn't giving me what I paid for.

My other friend, an older Italian gentleman whose name I feel just terrible for forgetting, came over to see how I was doing. He showed me where I could dip my practice piece into water to cool it off. I did, and it hissed from the temperature change and I felt just like a blacksmith. That made my day better.

Finally five o'clock came. I wouldn't have known, because I didn't have a clock. Suddenly a bunch of guys started sweeping the floor and picking up their stuff and leaving. I looked around and decided I'd better leave too. I held my breath before I flipped the switch on my machine off, but it didn't blow up. It stopped making noise and died down completely and I think I breathed for the first time in four hours.

"Start on your block yet?" one of the guys asked me, referring to the project we were to have begun.

I just laughed. Inside I'm thinking, are you kidding me? It's all I can do to weld a straight line! It's all I can do to keep the rod from slipping through my hands with these huge freaking gloves on! My ears are ringing from listening to the sounds of a thousand anvils pounding on metal and I've probably been inhaling toxic fumes and I feel like I've been in an underground dungeon for forty days and forty nights and no, I did not start on my block, because I have zero confidence that I can even remotely accomplish what is expected, and I don't want to completely f*** it up before I even begin, and this whole thing still scares the living heck out of me so bad I'm sweating under this heavy size large coat and I have brushburn on my wrists where I taped the gloves on. And I love it, I thought.

My first experience welding was what I guess you might call "baptism by fire." More like baptism by argon gas.

I stepped out into the cold, hard, sort-of clean air of Western NY and felt happier than I have in a long time to see the sky, even though it was gray. (I think I mentioned I live in Western NY.) The city was quiet compared to inside the shop. I could move again - I could feel my head, without that horrible thing strapped onto it. The air smelled fresh compared to the hard metallic smells of fire and gas and all those things that the textbooks say are "odorless." I saw the world through a new lense. In fact, it was a little bit foggy...

That was when I realized I was still wearing my plastic safety glasses.

*********

If you made it all the way through that, thanks so much for reading! I felt I had to expel some of that before I'd be ready to go back to class tomorrow. :)

~Emma

(I would like to add that *I* do not look like this when I'm welding, nor does anyone, nor should anyone. Sparks are going to burn her arms and then her ponytail is going to catch on fire. It's not going to be good. I took a class.)

back when I used to be a writer

(Oh, for green grasses and blue skies, and temperatures above zero!)

Lately a lot of things have been happening that are changing the way I roll. I used to write a lot - now I don't. And while most of these things that are happening are good, it doesn't change the fact that I really miss what I used to love more than anything.

I made the switch over to writing mostly nonfiction last spring, trying to blog more and leaving my fictional stories, short and looooong, languishing in my computer file unfinished. I still love fiction, and I still love every single one of those characters; if I opened those files and read them right now I'd probably start crying. That however might have less to do with the fact that I'm emotionally committed and more to do with the fact that I'm sleep deprived at the moment... but I digress. 

Something about nonfiction, though... For me, at the time, it felt more immediate, more professional. And it made me really excited. (I'm still going to write that book about homeschoolers and How We Will Take Over the World.)

Now I'm going to college, and the majority of everything I've written in the past six months has been to hand in to a teacher for them to grade. Which is good - because I'm thinking more about my audience when I write and how what I say will be perceived and understood. Bad - because college assignments are more often than not pretty flat. I haven't written a good family quarrel, or a mob drama, or - heavens! - a good kissing scene, in many, many moons. 

So lately (and probably having something to do with the fact that I'm going to college), I'm trying to conjure up ways I can write to make money. Probably sounds like a plan that won't hold water, but I don't have a whole lot to lose by trying! After all, I have all these dusty files of golden nuggets, rough but precious, just waiting to be dredged out and polished up! Who knows? Maybe some of them will see the light of day. At least going through some of them I remembered how good I used to be when I had the time to dedicate myself to it. But writing is like riding a bicycle - you never forget how, you just get a little rusty.

I also found this, a character interview that I used for one of my stories. I don't remember where I got it but it's the kind of thing I always liked to fill out. Just for kicks and giggles I thought I'd leave it here because that's what writers do on their blogs and it's what I used to do, back when I was one. :)

CHARACTER INTERVIEW - Memory Lane

Conflict with hero/heroine: 

External:  conflict with cousin Ty and Ty’s girlfriend

Internal:  conflict with desire to be a singer and anger over her mother’s leaving to pursue a singing career

Most outstanding physical feature: dark brown eyes

Why character stays or leaves home:  leaves home because her grandma dies; then stays home with aunt, uncle, cousins because she doesn’t want to leave; finally feels time to find a new home. The meaning of home changes.

Character’s deepest dream:  to feel wanted.

Character’s story goal:  to be at peace with her mother’s leaving, her cousin moving on, and to find peace with growing up herself

Externally:  getting along with Ty’s girlfriend, even though she doesn’t want to

Internally:   realizing the importance and sometimes benefits of change

Worst thing that has happened to character:  Memory’s dad died, but worse than that her mom left when Memory was seven

How character sees themselves:  unextraordinary, nobody special, strong enough to hold her own but not a person that anybody else would want

How others see character:  too hard on herself, quietly pretty, talented, 

Who has influenced character most:  her cousin Ty, later Skyler Wayne

How does this character differ from other characters:  she doesn’t want to be on her own -- she craves dependence, not independence

Character’s amount of self-control, self-discipline, judgement:  scale of 1 to 10 -- self-control, 8, self-discipline, 9, judgement, 9

Do you like Character? Why? Will readers?  YES. Because I understand her. And I think yes, because they will understand her.

Is character based on a real person? Sort of. 

Character’s secret:  she still hurts over her mother leaving, and her cousin giving her less attention. She longs to feel wanted. Also she’s in love with Hunter Hayes and she doesn’t really want that leaking out because she’s got a thing called pride.

Character’s handicap:  she thinks too little of her own resilience.

Character’s needs:  to be valued and useful and desired.

One true thing:  there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.

Secondary character:  Skyler Wayne

Symbol that expresses character’s personality:  Memory’s denim skirt

Scars:  physical or figurative? Emotional scars include -- dad’s death, mom’s leaving, grandma’s death

Safe Place:  Alan and Marty (aunt and uncle)'s house

Favorite Color:  blue

Favorite Music:  Broadway shows and Hunter Hayes

Favorite Food:  mint brownies

Favorite Literature:  Sarah, Plain and Tall books

Favorite Expression:  the heck

Favorite Expletive:  see above

We'll see what else I can find in the abyss of all this that has some merit. 

See ya on the flipside!

Emma

a "flaming testament" // 2017

(that's from a song by Mark Knopfler, just so you know the truth, I'm not that creative)

A year is over! As usual I feel myself a little stunned, but not very stunned, because I don't have time to be that stunned. I feel about a hundred years older after this one.

2017, let's see what happened....

// January //

• I try to write songs, but that never really takes off. :-P

• I apply for jobs, and start working Saturdays at a little store in my neighborhood.

• Sadie, Henry and I go bowling one night, and I discover how much I love something I used to dislike.

• I watch Texas Rising. And... yeah.

• I find Wind River Ranch, fill out a big fat application, send the dang thing, and wait for awhile without breathing.

• I take the placement test for college and start my first class there, which I didn't think I would like, but as per usual, I was wrong.

• Sadie turns 16 and we go sledding, then Molly turns 21 and we go bowling. 

"I didn't know Emma was going to be this girl."

 - Mama

// February //

• I turn 18 on the 2nd, and Sadie convinces me to have a party. We finally make the red velvet armadillo cake I'd been wanting ever since I saw Steel Magnolias for the first time four years ago.

looks like an armadillo, right? Don't say a rat.

• I start another job, working as a waitress. Scared the heck out of me but I was determined to try....

• I have a phone interview with one of the directors from Wind River, and I-kid-you-not I started to cry when he prayed for me at the beginning. Over the phone.

• I spend too much time disliking school and disliking my job....

• My mom and sisters and I watch Downton Abbey on Valentine's Day.

• I wake up to the value of a dollar when I spend way too many of them on a t-shirt with a logo on it, then think about it all the way home. I vow to be a better steward with my money. (Funny part is, I don't even wear the shirt anymore.)

• The Squad - consisting of Henry, Sadie, and Emma - go to an indoor rodeo with some of our super-duper cool friends. Emma doesn't get asked out like she always hopes for (used to) when she goes to rodeos, but we have a good time. ;-)

• Sadie and I start going to a friend's youth group. Why did I have to wait till I was almost too old to find the best youth group ever?

• Henry turns 17 and we redneck out as usual.

"Consider yourself on the team."

(I got the job at the ranch!!!!!)

// March // 

• I find out that Les Mis is my history teacher's favorite musical and start to like him a lot more.

• I really don't like my job, but I stick with it...

• We go bowling with Henry's youth group, play bloody wrists and Indian wrestle with kids younger than me.

• I drive through a lotta farmland and vineyards (I really do love NY) and dream about the future.

• My mom, my sisters and I take a mini-vacation to PA, stop at my aunt's where Sadie and I see a Gold City concert at their church. Then we go to a Florida-Georgia Line at Stage College. I've never seen so many people in one place in my LIFE. 

• I kinda wish I was Mennonite. For awhile. (Blame Pennsylvania.)

• I watch The Alamo (2004) again which reinforces my faith in mankind and, well, men.

"I know how you like to write and write and write."

- my history teacher

// April //

• I buy an iPhone and joined the modern age!

• I discover Ryan Bingham, which is noteworthy.

• I sell the cap that I bought with my truck! Yay money!

• I buy (I buy a lot of things don't I???) another pair of cowboy boots from the coolest Amish guy ever. Colorado here I come!

• Easter comes and we eat a lot of mini cheesecakes. 

•  A guy leaves his number on my truck door and I tear it up and throw it out.

• I start a job driving my neighbor to therapy appointments - might not sound like it but SO much fun.

• Sadie and Henry and I win a talent show with our little band!

• We go to a Cowboy's Spring Ball and two-step the night away in cowboy boots.

"Emma's cool - she's bold."
- my cousin Henry

// May //

• We have our own annual spring ball with the dance group, and it's SO nice because I'm not crushing on anybody this year.

• I plant stuff and watch it grow! Yee yee!

• Henry, Peter, Sadie and I go on a wild goose chase to find a dance we'd heard about...finally we find it, are not impressed, leave, and laugh all the way home, harder than I had in a long time.

• I quit my job...and then quit my other job.

• Henry takes us to a horseshoeing clinic with a bunch of Amish guys. Completely lit. (But kinda weird.)

• I have a plane ticket to Denver, Colorado!

• I also have a plane ticket to San Antonio, Texas - my uncle and I go down there to visit my cousin for a week. 

I never fell in love with a land like I did with Texas.

// June //

• I catch a fish for the first time in my life!

• I graduate from high school...sort of. I kind of missed that. But at any rate I finish!

• I get recognized at church for graduating and get a brand new beautiful Bible and almost die from all the love.

• As usual, change is the only constant.

• A bunch of people come over to our barn to celebrate Molly's graduation from college and mine from high school. Again, I almost die from the love. 

• My Grandpa writes some Bible verses in my graduation card, I look them up and some of them don't exist... ;-P

• We open the stand for the season and start picking strawberries every morning, and I'm in my glory.

• My cousins and I go to the Stateline Speedway for the first time and I fall in love with the smells of rubber and dust clouds.

• Sadie starts to drive more.

• I start to get sick of picking strawberries...

"Hey - congratulations."

- New Guy

// July //

• I get to sing the National Anthem at a 4th of July festival at my aunt and uncle's church. They say 5000 people were there. 

• My truck breaks down in the middle of nowhere on the way home that very same night...

• I find out that the guy I met at the fire hall, the one who showed up uninvited to my graduation party, is actually the same age as I am and not 20-something like I thought.

• I start to like the guy I met at the fire hall, the one who showed up uninvited to my graduation party.

• I read Roy Feek's book, This Life I Live. People should read that book.

• I have blood drawn for the first time and feel like I'm gonna die (but I survive)

• Sadie, Henry, and I go to see Chris Stapleton and I almost fall asleep driving home.

• I take off for Denver...and that was an ordeal. 

• Emma Jane Anderson arrives in Colorado!

// August //

• I work as wait staff, housekeeping, and even in childcare (AHHHH!) at Wind River Ranch.

• A few girls and I go to Redrocks Church in Arvada one night, and for the first time I feel glad I came to CO.

• I miss home something terrible and try to console myself listening to Brantley Gilbert at night.

• I learn a lot about service to others, faithfulness when I'm far away from people I love, and being my own person in a strange place.

• Glen Campbell dies :-(

• I finally make friends with the other girls, and my heart actually breaks when I have to leave.

"I love you, you little noise in the other room."

- Samantha

// September //

• I GO HOME!

• Sadie and I drive to Ohio for a homeschool graduate's retreat. 

• I start going to college, and am relatively unimpressed. My English teacher doesn't give out 100s. (wtf?)

• Sadie and I go to the Mother Earth News Fair with our friends and I get to meet Joel Salatin! Also I get a hotel room in my name for the first time. Pretty weird.

• We have a bonfire at the Brown's house and cook a squirrel, play Red Rover, and roast marshmallows.

• I decide to join the fire department.

• We go bowling, and I see him again, and it's good to be home.

"I saw a strike."

- New Guy/Mike

// October //

• Tom Petty dies and I start listening to his music for the first time.

• We find a kitty living in the upstairs of our barn and I name him Casper...until I find out he's a she.

• The shooting in Las Vegas happens and Eric Church writes a song about it.

• I start blogging again.

• Molly comes home from college for a visit! 

• We have a hayride. I leave a note on his truck at school inviting him to come, and he does.

• I buy a puppy from an Amish man, and name him Henley after Don Henley. 

• We go over to Mike's house for a bonfire. He shows me his turkeys and we play sneaks in the woods and afterwards he checks my arms for scratches with a flashlight and I'm not really sure why it sticks in my mind?

• We go to a Halloween party at the Brown's house, play sneaks in the dark, I lose my pocketknife, and as we're driving away Mike flashes his blue light.  

• We close the stand for the year and I buy a huge pumpkin from an Amish kid for $10 because ours are all gone.

"Emma doesn't act weird. She laughs really loudly."

- Sadie

// November //

• We go out, and say we'll do it again.

• My mom and Sadie and I go to see Molly at school and tour the city of Rochester. I sniff out a Carhartt outlet store and spend too much money.

• I get a job at Tractor Supply.

• We have our costume ball, and I go dressed up as Mia from La La Land.

• I fly to Indiana for a few days to visit my friend Allie. We go to see Only the Brave and it's the best movie I've seen in a long, long time. I think about Veterans' Day a lot more this year than I ever have before.

• I keep going to school, working on the other days, and seeing him.

• I have a day off and Sadie and I go Christmas shopping and just drive around in the country like we used to when we had no responsibilities. 

• I become a member of the fire department.

• Mike and I go to the rodeo at Sundance and listen to Firefall and Bread all the way home.

• I take a class for first responders on drug labs and get a little freaked out because the world is a messed-up place, but reassured too because there are people who deal with it.

• Mike takes me hunting, and I shoot his 20 gauge. We use his math homework as a target.

• My head is full of numbers, cash registers, fire engines, blue lights, and puppies.

• I go to my first call, a vehicle off the road after hitting a deer. I don't do much except carry the chainsaw back to the truck.

• I go to my second call, on Christmas morning. We lose the patient, but I'm extremely proud of my guys.

• We have an unexpected and sorta weird but happy Christmas :-)

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

- Philippians 4:6-7

Happy 2018 everyone!