CHAPTER 1

Episode 1

Change Hearts One at a Time

There's always going to be bad stuff out there. But here's theamazing thing—light trumps darkness, every time. You stick acandle into the dark, but you can't stick the dark into the light.—Jodi Picoult

I miss my niece. Hell, I even miss my mom and dad. I am all alone. Imight even persuade someone to hold me tonight. But it would goagainst all of my moral beliefs, so I'll just sleep alone again. And let'sbe honest—I wouldn't have to pay someone to lay in bed with me. I'm quitecute and quite the cuddler.

I am currently twenty-five years old and working as an English teacher ina foreign country—South Korea, to be exact. I guess I'm of a different breed incertain ways. At least that's what I've been told. I like the feel of the big city, butI love the comfort and warmth of the beach and mountains. I want to travel,see the world, and experience all it has to offer, but I also want a husband and acouple little ones to love. I like to get outside my comfort zone, even with thoseI cannot communicate with due to a language barrier. But I also love sittingnext to someone I know inside and out and being able to know what they'refeeling or thinking.

I suppose every day I am figuring more of myself out. Every day I ambecoming more of the woman I set out to be. I used to like things—cars,apartments, clothes, houses. I didn't love them, and I never thought I couldn'tlive without them, but as I grow, I understand that those things are onlythings of this world, man created, not God created. I find myself drawn tothe things of the earth—the people, the sights, the sounds, the peacefulnessand innocence in a child. Earthly things, they would be here whether we werehere or not. But worldly things, man created, they are a temporary fix to amuch deeper, long-term yearning, an unfathomable fulfillment that a thingcould never fix. They pollute us and everything we surround ourselves with.They give us some false sense of security or hope that doesn't exist within, butrather exists for the temporary high of what feels like something that couldsatisfy you. But never does. So I say, the fewer things you need, the better offyou are.

In fact, I usually say, the less you own, the less that owns you.

Some people live a lifetime thinking they know everything. Some peopleeven die thinking they were always right. I know I don't know that much.Compared to Gandhi or other wise men and women, I really don't knowanything. I also know I'm wrong a lot. And I know that I know that I know thatall that matters in this world are those you love and that which you believe. Therest is just previews, what you are bound to watch before the main feature youactually wanted to see.

I am not a Christian because I always do what is right or even because Iknow what is right; I usually don't. Being a Christian is a daily struggle, but Iam Christian because I have faith. I believe in the unknown; I believe in whatI do not see. My faith turns my questions and worries into beliefs. Believing inthe unknown is hard—not because you don't want to believe, but because theintelligence of this world breeds skepticism.

"Nothing has caused the human race so much trouble as itsown intelligence." – Author Unknown

We were made to love, to serve, to touch others' hearts with our own. If you aredoing that, you are doing exactly what I intend to do.

I think at some point every one of us gets caught up in this world,waiting to get a new job, waiting for a raise, waiting to move, waiting toget married, waiting to tell someone you love him or her—in other words,waiting to be happy. So many of us get caught up in waiting that we forget tobe here now. We forget to live. So I say live now. Live for today. Ignore yourcell phone when you're talking to someone you respect. Love someone whodisrespects you. Hold the door for a stranger. Buy someone you care aboutflowers out of the blue. Be the best you that you can be. Change hopelesshearts one at a time.

I have spent my whole life working. At age fourteen, while sittingaround my birthday dinner at Applebee's on July 10, 1997, I was hired onthe spot to be a grocery sacker by a store director. It was family tradition towork at the local grocery store until you were old enough to get a real job.I was very excited about this at the time, and the grocery store director,Mark Davis, just happened to be at Applebee's, so it was an easy interview.I loved going to work, getting up for work, making money at work, being atwork—I loved everything about work. After two years as a sacker and thena cashier clerk, I got a job at a local clothing store called The Buckle; thatwas at age sixteen.

I should mention that my first high school boyfriend and I met while Iwas working at the grocery store. His name is Michael, and we were togetherfor a little over two years. It was, of course, the perfect high school sweetheartrelationship. Michael was a great boyfriend to me. He is now married and,coincidentally, still works part time at the same Applebee's I was hired at elevenyears ago. Some people, like Michael, are better off with little to no change—samejob, same town, same friends. Not me. I prefer drastic spurts of change.More on the high school sweetheart later.

Back to work. I worked at the clothing store for two years, until the end ofmy junior year in high school. Then, at eighteen, I miraculously got a job at avery young age at T-Mobile, a retail cell phone store. I made $31,000 that year.I was a sales consultant, and although the job was tiresome and somewhatstressful, I loved it. I worked at T-Mobile for a little over four years and was inand out of relationships through those years. Where do I even start? I will putthat on hold for a minute.

My goals were always career oriented and, therefore, monetary. By twenty-three, I was making $50,000, $70,000 by age twenty-five, and in the six figs bythirty. This is the American dream, right? This is why we waste thousands ofdollars on a very expensive piece of paper someone tells us we must acquireand then have sit in our closets for all of eternity, right? Right. Well, after fouryears in the wireless communications industry, I got into inside sales at a smallhealth-care company, making $34,000. Then I worked in marketing at a smalltechnology company, where I was making $50,000 by age twenty-three. But Iwas laid off after a year. Then I worked as an executive assistant for nearly a yearand was laid off again.

I had hit my career goals as well as my financial goals. I was working hardand doing the right things. But after the consecutive layoffs, I was seriouslystruggling financially. You know how it's been; times are tough. Or maybeyou're reading this later; times were tough. It is extremely difficult when you aremaking really good money as a single person and then are laid off, because as asingle person, there is no backup income. Of course, I'm thankful I was singleand not a mother of three children being laid off. Perspective is imperative.So the economy was falling headfirst into a recession, and I needed a way out.With a degree in social psychology, which I earned as an online student, therewas not much I could do without going back to college. Let's spend anothertwenty-six grand on another piece of paper to sit in the closet for all of eternity.I think not. So after attempting to run my own public relations firm for nearlya year, I finally found a way out.

That is what leads me to this episode of my life, Korea, single and writing.

CHAPTER 2

Episode 2

Our Lives Are a Book

And remember, "Above all, love each other deeply, because lovecovers over a multitude of sins."—1 Peter 4:8

I prefer to think of life like this. Life is a book. Some chapters areshort. Some chapters are so good you don't want them to end, evenwhen they do. Some chapters last lifetimes, and before you know it,the book is over; your life as you knew it is gone. So I say write a story that lastsforever; write a story that people want to read, maybe even over and over again.My book is going to be long, I hope. This is the beginning of it. And none of itis perfect. Most of it just plain sucks at this point. But because I think its worthsharing, because I think it might help someone in this world, I'm going to sharemy story with you—all of it: the pains, the loves, the losses, the joy, everything.This is my life, my story, my open book. I hope that it's one you want to readover and over again, or at least pass on.

My story starts like this.

A couple years ago, I started to write a book about dating, life, love,relationships, and various other topics. The book was supposed to be calledRushing to a Red Light. I lost the majority of the contents of this book becauseof a simple computer mishap that set off a chain of events leading to a carbreak-in in which my laptop was stolen. I had reset the computer to run faster,but once the reset was complete, it only blinked a blue screen. Nice going, genius.I was going to buy another laptop that day and left the broken one in a small,brown leather bag on the floor of my car. I had tinted windows, and since I livedin downtown Kansas City, I had rented a spot in a "secure" parking garage.Nevertheless, someone shattered the window, and the broken laptop was stolenwithin a couple hours. Not that it mattered that much, the stupid thief stole abroken computer. But I was upset because it was another disappointment at avery difficult point in my life, and mainly because I had lost two years' worthof effort and hard work. At that point, I had nearly given up on writing, onrelationships, on life—on everything, really.

Most of this started when I was twenty-two. A male best friend of mine, Joe,asked me to be his roommate. My parents surprised me with a puppy, whichI named Harley, and Joe and I were raising the puppy together. Harley was aMaltese dachshund mix. Some refer to this as a Daxitese, but there are othernames. Harley was only a couple pounds when I got him and grew to be abouteight pounds. This was a genius sort of small dog who knew how to sit, stay,shake, heal, pee in the shower, and fetch. He always stayed close to me whenwe were outside. He wasn't the yippy, barking, run-from-his-owner,doesn't-know-how-to-sit sort of small dog you want to smack. Harley knew submissivepositions when he did something wrong, though such positions were rarelywarranted. At the time, moving in with Joe to save money and live rent-free wasthe best decision I could have made. But I was still extremely immature, notready for a serious commitment, and just not aware of his hidden agenda in thewhole scenario. I mean, I was twenty-two. Let's be realistic.

Joe was twenty-nine, looking to settle down, extremely wealthy and, asI mentioned, had an entirely different mindset than I. After a couple weeks,it was obvious—pretty much because his best friend told me—that he wasunsustainably, irrevocably, madly in love with me. As best friends, he wrote mean e-mail confessing his feelings and then telling me—promising me—that hecould handle his emotions, that everything would be fine, and that we couldremain friends and roommates. However, very shortly thereafter, I found thisnot to be the case at all. Ah, the red flags we ignore in order to sustain ourselves.

When you love someone as much as he loved me, you cannot suppress thoseemotions. You can attempt to stop loving someone. You can try to hide yourtrue feelings. You can even try and pretend they don't exist. But the cold, hardtruth was his feelings were very real and very much on the surface. He wore hisemotions on his sleeve and was not able to keep them contained.

Within a month of living together, it had gotten to the point that I was being"disrespectful" if I had a date even pick me up at "[Joe's] house." And furtherto the point, if I was seeing someone, he was not really allowed to come to thehouse where I lived. In other words, Is pent all of my time with Joe. We were bestfriends, we ate dinner together, we drank together, we raised Harley together,we cooked together, we watched movies together, we played games together, wetraveled together, we ran errands together—we did everything together. Aftera few months, it was inevitable—we started dating.

His plan worked.

I knew from day one Joe was not the man I realistically wanted. But youknow how it goes. Your family and friends start to tell you all the things thatare wrong with you, why you never choose the right person to date, why youalways end up getting hurt—or worst yet, that you'll end up alone if you don'tstart giving other guys a chance. Yada yada yada. Most of us have heard thisat some point, to one degree or another—unless, of course, you are a "serialrelationshipper." And let's be honest: that can be just as detrimental to one'smental health.

Deep down in my heart of hearts, after all the persuasive speeches I shouldhave ignored, I slightly agreed. I wanted to try and love this man rather than tohurt him or break his heart. So I tried desperately to develop the sort of emotionsthat would attach myself to him. I wanted so terribly to feel something, to kisshim and feel love, to see him and think love, to be given a romantic candlelitdinner and roses and melt in his very presence. And trust me, I tried. Daily.Sometimes even hourly.

Throughout this time, we were both learning and growing a lot. But wewere also making habitually horrible decisions. We went out a lot, drank alot—almost every night actually. My best friend, Rachel, and his best friend,Daniel—well, the four of us made quite the foursome and were pretty muchinseparable for a year. Looking back, it was one of the best years of my life. Wewere carefree. We were actually free. The money Joe made allowed us to do thesorts of things you only see in movies.

Sometimes we would pack up and within hours be on an airplane tosomewhere, all four of us. It seemed like overnight we would end up next toParis Hilton at a club in Las Vegas. Pure was the one she was at that time. Wetraveled every chance we got. It was part of the escape, I think.

More than anything, I think I fell in love with the lifestyle, not theman. I fell in love with the freedom, the unknown, the lack of structure andresponsibility. I fell in love with sleeping in, going to the pool, going to thelake, going out of town, having help with my puppy, help with my homework,help with everything in my life. He was there for me. And this was my first realrelationship with a man—an established man ready for marriage, that is.

There was this one trip, probably my favorite one we ever went on. It wasjust Joe, his family, and I visiting his grandma in Arkansas. She was dying frommultiple illnesses and could only write; she had lost her ability to speak. It wasso sad watching her write to each of her grandchildren, and even sadder as Joeshowed me all the pictures of his family and life along the wall in the hallway.I took their last pictures together, and her smile brought tears to my eyes. Ithink this was the best trip because it was the first one where I saw Joe withouthis vices, without his blanket of security—material things, cars, work, money.I finally saw him stripped of everything he was usually wrapped up in. He wasstripped of the things of this world that separate us, that divide and conquerrelationships every day. Part of the reason I couldn't love him was because Ididn't see him as the man he was with his grandma. I saw him as a womanizer,the way people knew him before he met me. I look back on this trip and thinkmaybe we could have worked had the materialism of this world not gottenthe best of him, had our mindsets ever matched what really matters in thislife. Don't get me wrong. I recognize the hypocrisy in myself, but I was notraised with money. A new outfit for the first day of school was a big deal, andsometimes our grandmother sewed them. It was nice to finally relax, be takencare of, and not work.

So we drove his Hummer to Arkansas, following his sister, brother-in-law,and niece. We made an overnight stop in Branson, Missouri, and stayed at thisplace called Big Cedar Lodge. Our room was hilarious. It was filled with stuff eddeer heads, squirrels, birds, and other wildlife. I had a hard time falling asleepwith all those animals staring at me. But eventually, after a relaxing and sexuallystimulating time in the Jacuzzi, I got over it.

Our sex life was always subpar; the sparks just were not there for me. Ithink that is what always held me back from being in love with him. I needthe sparks. I need the moments that take my breath away. However, in thathotel room, kissing him finally felt real. I remember his kiss and touch beingmeaningful and passionate during that trip, and I fell for it. Maybe part ofthis was all in my head, and certainly much of it was in his, but during thistrip into fields and rolling green hills, we were a different couple. It wascomforting.