Just a little draft... maybe more to come...
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I remember the day we first met. I entered the sanctuary for worship team practice and noticed him immediately. New members had been joining us for rehearsals, several of whom, had been very attractive men that, to a high school senior, was always something to look forward to. And there he was, a new face, a new boy to know.

I strolled down the aisle smiling at the sound of my named being shouted by Eileen, the band leader. Glancing his way, I saw him look at me and return to his conversation with her husband, Andy. Once, I made it to where everyone was gathered, I caught up with a few of the other team members and casually ignored him. I knew I had plenty of time to meet him and the idea of chasing after another boy, a recent pass time, was not something that seemed particularly fun at the time.

Band rehearsal was the one place for me, a 17 year old girl, was able to feel safe and confident. It was a second home to me, the church I had grown up in, learned to sing in. I felt honored and special to be on the worship team as I had been specifically asked, even though I was in high school, to join by Andy and Eileen. Little did I know that their action of reaching out to me in such a way would open wide a doorway to singing, a door that I thought was supposed to remained locked. Joyously, I would bounce into rehearsals, coming to life with an eagerness to sing. Each practice was like a blank canvas where we would paint and splatter our sounds. It was a creative outlet for me to close my eyes and sing, my voice soaring along with melodic lines, ringing in my head, echoing all around me. It was there that I learned to harmonize, taking my musical ablilty to a new level. It was there that I was truly happy.

The pass year's events had dealt me the death of a close friend and the birth of a longstanding battle with depression. It was the hardest year of my life. While friends spent their senior year partying and looking forward to college, I spent my time trying to know myself. I had been hiding behind a mask my entire life, pretending it were different, pretending I was someone else. This behavior began my non-existant identity, formed from the perfections of friends and their successes, hoping that if I copied their paths, then I, an invisible being, would surface and find happiness. Those I fed off of were members of a Christian group called Young Life.

My Young Life leaders were people I wanted to be so badly. Their lives were so organized and pretty, their homes beige and cream colored, accented by huge couches and scripture. They were so friendly and outgoing. They were perfect. Perfect Christians, perfect parents, perfect friends. The model of human behavior. I gravitated to them, accepting their flier invitations to "Club", feeling wanted and cared for. I would drive by myself to school mate's houses who were, by far, way more popular than I was. I would fight off feelings of unworthiness as I entered their homes, desperately seeking out a familiar face. Many times, the only people I knew were the leaders and there was an awkwardness between myself and my peers seated around me. I felt like I should be nice to them, I expected them to be nice to me, but hardly any words were spoken.

Eventually, I got to know more people and once they found out I was already a Christian, I was invited to attend the pre-club bible study called Campaigners. Becoming an active Young Lifer, was where I thought I belonged, where I thought I would be happy. My parents even opened up their home to host Club several times to give me this. At the time I didn't realize it, but I thought hosting Young Life was what good Christians do.

He stood in this very house, I realized. Right here, in front of me. He greeted my family with his goofy "Hiya". His spirit filled this house.

How can someone be here one instant and then vanish forever from our presence? All we have left of them is our memories. Smells fade, we bury their bodies, forget the sound of their laughter. Or do they remain among us, living in our minds, passing through our thoughts to remind us of happy times, to remind us of them? Do they breathe on us the sound of their voice? Or tap our shoulder to catch a glimspe of a memory? We search and search and search to collect some sort of solace. Are we finding it? Or can it only be given to us?

There is such fear in death. Being left behind creates a gap torn from the heart. That pain is dark. Loneliness absorbs the energy that flows through our veins and we try to medicate ourselves by sleeping. Shutting down our minds and bodies, hoping that when we wake, the pain from grief's beatings will have passed. But grief does not rest like us. It tears and pulverizes our cores, our brains, our souls. We grow numb from crying. We grow numb from being alone. Grief consumes us and smashes us to the floor.

Eventually, in it's own timing, the pain begins to subside and the tear in our hearts begin to heal. And in a way, we miss the humbleness agony brings us. It feels so safe, as if we have been pressed to God's chest, held there as a prisoner to be released in his timing. Then we are free, but alone, having to fend for ourselves. We grow stronger with time, therapy, life; but on our hearts remains a scar. A mark for remembrance, a mark of love. Sensitive tissue that we guard and protect, even fight for. Tissue so sensitive that tears flow if agitated. We run our fingers across the skin of our lives and feel the different sensations each scar brings. Uncomfortable as it is, we are thankful for our marks that are evidence of someone precious, someone loved, someone who loved us.

Hi folks, I haven't written in a while, but the baby is crawling, so forgive me, time is flying by. But I do want to keep the brain flowing so here's a shot at a little something....
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Hi there. My name is Marissa and I work here in this coffee shop. Uhm. Ok. My manager said that these camera crews were going to be here today and that I was supposed to show you guys around, which is kind of weird considering she's the manager and I'm just a shift, but whatever. I don't care. Just as long as I don't have to be on the floor and wait on customers. Where do you want to start? With me? Heheh. Uhmm ok. We can do that. What do you mean though? Like where I stand to wait on people? Ohhh you mean like about me personally.

So, I started working here two years ago as a barista. That's the part-time help around here. I got the job by just coming in and filling out an application. I was looking for a job at several places at the time because I had just started college. I applied at like American Eagle, uhm, Zales, I thought it would be cool to sell diamonds, plus my friend worked there and stuff. Uhm...where else did I apply? Three places, I know...Oh right. Here. So yeah, I interviewed at Zales and they really liked me but they wanted me to work on Sundays and I just didn't do that then. Yeah, I was big on going to church and stuff. American Eagle ended up calling me after I got the job here so that sucks for them, but I hear they don't get paid much over there. Anyhoo- I handed in my application to Sheila, who is right over there, hi Sheila! I'm waving at her, you can't see her because she just went in the backroom, but yeah. Ok.

Uhm, where was I? Oh, yeah, I had my first interview with Sheila and then the manager at the time, Katie, offered me the job on my second interview. So, here I am! What do you want to do now? How about I take you on a tour of our shop? Awesome.

Ok, you already saw the front door. That's our company sign. I don't know who designed it or anything, but it's pretty trendy. So once you walk in, you're in our cafe here. We have lots of tables and chairs, a few comfy chairs they just put in, probably because they heard we were going to be in a movie or something. It's not a movie? Oh, a documentary. Ok. Uhm. That's not a movie? Is this going to be in like L.A. or something? That would be so cool! Hahaha. Right.

So, yeah. This is our retail wall. We sell mugs and chocolate and stuff. It's a biotch to dust though, I'll tell you that much. I'm always afraid I'll break something, and you have to move so much junk to just get one shelf done. Luckily, we only do that like once a month, so I don't have to do it that much.

So this huge counter over here is for our coffee. It's pretty disorganized. We sell a lot of whole bean here so that's why it's all over here.

Uhm... ok if you come here with me we'll go to the registers where Meghan is. Hi Meghan! Uhm... do you guys sell coffee here... haha haha! Hehe.

Can we take a break? I'm kind of thirsty and need to go to the bathroom. What? You're going to keep the camera's rolling? You aren't going to watch me pee or something are you? Because I'm not ok with that. Oh. Right. Ok. I thought this was going to be like Big Brother or something where you're always on camera and they end up editing it so the people sound like idiots. Hah. I never want to do that. Anyway, I'm going to get a drink. Probably just a latte. Do you guys want anything? We're not really busy right now, it shouldn't be a problem for us all to order. You sure? Tommy's at the bar and he makes really good cappuccinos. Right Tommy?