My First Day!

At work my co-worker and I found this link for a competition on (what better than) blog writing. Our mission was to write a "blog" and 1000 words or less about our first day working at US Bank. We found the link at noon on the last day of the competition with a deadline of 3 O'clock. So in the midst of Friday rush we both typed away madly trying to make every last second between transactions count. In the middle of a transaction I quickly copy and pasted and submitted my final product at a close 2:57...this is what I wrote, let's hope I win! (I could get an IPad) ;]

My First Day! My First Day! Oh, what a day it was. No we didn’t get robbed…and no we didn’t book a million dollar loan…and no…I didn’t make a complete fool of myself by pronouncing OPS manual, “oops manual”, but  yes, it was still day to remember. I sat in my car the morning of, waiting anxiously for the clock to tick away, taking deep breathes, watching people walk by with their children and dogs, both on leashes, wondering how many of those people I would later learn to know, I would of never guessed it would be so many. I repeatedly brushed my tingling fingers through my blonde hair trying to uncurl every knot, reapplying yet another layer of lipstick after I had chewed off all the others anxiously. Finally the clock had approached and I felt like I was taking a flying leap kicking one high-heel out of the car, and then another; I was practically sky diving. I walked up to the small one handled door, above me the hundred year old wooden US Bank sign creaked me a gentle greeting, and that’s when I did it, placed my hand on the silver knob, turned and pushed- the door jerked but nothing happened. Again I turned and pushed hearing the door catch it self again and again. I looked around clueless for what seemed like forever, until I heard the sound of a key shuffling from the other side of the door. Within a moment I was standing face to face with an average height red head with a beaming smile, who would soon become not only my co-worker and TC, but one of my closest friends.
“Next time, ring the door bell”, she said still sporting a smile, eyes darting over to the small round door bell I had been too confused to acknowledge. I laughed nervously and she welcomed me, opening the door just wide enough for me to walk in. The small branch seemed smaller than a cheap New York apartment. Three steps you’re at teller row, another three steps you’re hitting the back door…okay, it’s not that small, but it’s close. My manager walked me through the branch, showing me a break room with a table, a few chairs, a microwave that will later take me 10 minutes to figure out how to work, a fridge full of food far beyond their expiration date, and a broken dishwasher; she took me into a small office that had a large white board completely covering one wall that had dry erase marker plastered all over it with words and numbers that might as well been written in Chinese because I didn’t understand one abbreviation on the board. 
“These are our shred bins, this will be your window”, she said taking me in circles. I remember watching her float across the branch as if it was her kitchen, pulling out GL’s like cookies from her oven, calling every costumer by first name, her playful back and forth in every transaction, just some of the things that what made this small town branch truly feel like home.
Most of the day was spent in front of the computer screen, reading and taking tests, watching videos, wondering to myself how I would act if some day someone told me “Give me all your money”. How would I react? What would I do? I asked myself this often in my first few weeks, with security training after security training playing on repeat in my mind and computer screen.
“You did great for your first day”, she said walking me to the front door swinging her keys back and forth from her Dayton Pirates lanyard. Watching the letters shimmer as it swung would never give me the inclination that I would become so consumed with Dayton football. That Id get to know the parents and the kids, learn the name of the players, their numbers, their positions. I’d find myself weeks into the season shivering under the field lights screaming with the town as our notorious running back jetted across the field once again to land us another touchdown. Our Pirates took us so far, so far that we drove the hour and half drive the State Championship where we barely missed the trophy by a 40 yard field goal in the last three seconds. The town was crushed, the boys were crushed even more. For weeks after, the game would be our only conversation with everyone who walked through the doors. This bank didn’t just give me a job or a paycheck, they gave me a community, they gave me a family, they gave me a home, and my first day was simply the beginning.  

My Someday Post..

Someday I wish to marry a man who inspires me. Ofcourse this will not be his sole purpose or only attribute, but just one of the many pleasantries of our already delightful marriage. I wish to be able to look at him from across the kitchen table and see visions of a whole new world, or of a kingdom in turmoil, or of a boy trying to become a man, or a young enthusiast set out to find themselve, or maybe just a little girl who lost the shiniest red button on her new red sweater that her grandmother had given to her wrapped with a kiss and big purple ribbon. I would to look from my cream colored coffee to his black sugary abyss and be able to imagine up a complete underwater world complete with mystical colorful creatures, some big, some small, some blue some orange, all from a watery city far below the coral reef, with little homes made from seashells and an evil dictator whose suit was too tight and whose wife was a blowfish. After breakfast we'd sit together on our porch swing and while he read the daily news, I'd play with his hand that rested in mine, and as our feet swung back and forth I would suddenly know the sensation of jumping from an airplane. The anticipation burning in my lungs as I gulped just enough air to stay alive, and peering out the small cut out in the plane I'd be able to see nothing but clouds and different colored squares that made up the face of our little planet. "Are you ready?!" the instructor would yell with a cheesy smile. "Yes!", I'd yell back while everything in me was screaming, "You've gone insane!"... We take a step for the door. "Three!"- oh goodness I don't know if i can do this. I hold my hand to the edge of the cut out. "Two!"...wait I've changed my mind... "One!"
And I'd be back on the swing fiddling his wedding band, humming my favorite song. Later, after the days sun had yawned its last and retired behind the horizon, we'd sit along the window seal, counting stars by the millions. I'd lay my head on his shoulder and wonder about the man in the moon. I'd wonder if he'd ever been in love? In real love. The can't eat, can't sleep, to infinity and beyond, over the fence, world series kind of stuff. I could only imagine his bride, she'd have the softest smile, kindest eyes, she haven't an ounce of judgement in her character; her laughter would heel a broken heart and her tears could send a warrior weeping. She'd wait out in a far off galaxy, waiting for her groom, waiting for the day the world stops turning and her handsome prince could sweep her off her feet.
Laying down to bed, I'd roll to my side and ask my husband what he thought of my stories. He'd slowly look over at me, gently kiss me on my forehead and whisper "I love them all"; leaving me with no doubt that he is my only story worth telling.

The Long Lost Blog!

 So I just found this blog! I thought I had published it months ago and I never did! So please entertain me for a moment, take yourself back to the week before Christmas. The air is crisp and dry. People are running around like chickens with their heads cut off preparing for various shows and trips and dinners and families coming in and out of town. Kaylee is stressing out and waiting anxiously for the weekend to end:

      On Saturaday night we had a wonderful Christmas Concert. It was written and orchastrated by our very own Andrea and Elindsey. It was a Christmas play/concert. We had dramas and songs....two of those inwhich I drummed for the first time ever! If you've been following this blog and have impeckable memory you would remember that I started learning drums sometime around April/May and over the last couple months have continued to learn and improve and on Saturday I put my skills to the test- performing, like I said: TWO songs! My nerves were running at high speeds but the rush and the shouts from the crowd was well worth it! :)) My parents even came to the concert, they took pictures and my dad shouted out with excitment. During the very annointed alter call Andy Altringer ministered to my dad while Chris Altringer leaned into a conversation with my mom, which ended with them both stepping away without praying. I was crushed, standing at the sound board watching my mom shake her head no.
      The next night was our much anticipated Childrens Christmas Play. My role was that of the teacher, I had a blonde and bouncy bee-hive and a southern accent that stuck with me for hours after the play. I had slaved for the last two months, missing every Sunday evening service, having a headahe that often last for days, feeling the stress of memorizing lines and ques and constantly restraining myself from beating the many running and wild children into a living pulp..but we made it through with laughs that echoed for days, and again there my parents sat, forth row back, in the center, beaming with grins that stretched from ear to ear watching there bubbly small town daughter turned 60's southern belle. After, we exited stage, with claps and shouts of the crowd ringing in our ears, me and the kids waited in the back, butterflies still flapping their wings in our bellys and suddenly I saw an urgent eye from Courtney knocking from outside the door. "Come here!" she mouthed waving her finger at me. I rushed to the door, confused and worried...'what had gone wrong?' I thought.
       As I stepped out of the crowded door way she looked at me softly and grabbed my arm, "Your dad just raised his hand".
   'No!' I thought. It couldn't be. She pulled me into the dark sactuary and wrapped her arm around me. I could see my dad from where I stood against the flagged wall and then I heard Mark ask, "If you meant that, would you look up at me?" and suddenly I saw my dad raise his head, "did you mean that?" and he nodded yes. The tears streamed down my face uncontrolably, and my body felt numb. My dad was praying at an alter! And without delay, Chris went over to my mom and while every stood and sang, my mom sat in her seat and prayed with Chris. People flooded me with hugs and the heavy liquid eye liner I was wearing had flooded down my cheeks.
       I have been praying for two years that one day my parents would get saved. I could of never imagined it tho, and would have never been able to imagine the feeling I would have seeing my parents giving their lives to Jesus. I was so hopeful on Saturday night that when they didn't pray at that moment I felt so discouraged and to think that they would pray at a Childrens Play, of all things!
     I continue to pray for them, because I just know that if God will save them then he will surely move in their lives!
                         -Always Toby K. A Hopeful Woman Serving the Most High God.

Among The Rubble

I found this among some of my older drafts and I thought I'd share. It's nothing too amazing, and frankly I wish I could change some stuff with it, but I'm trying to get back in the habit of posting and since I don't really feel like writing I will use this. Hope you like :)


A seasons time has come and gone. The summer heat has turned an autumns rain, the warming ocean waves have turned a frigid tide, blooming buds have become fallen leaves; relationships have changed, passions have turned, a love has ended with the warm breeze it rode in on; it left on a whim and ruminated in a hurricane. But before long the changing weather calmed and the waters barely made a stir; people turned a blind eye and soon forgot. Tears have dried, a heart has healed. Over the horizon is nothing but a memory and beyond the memory is nothing but another season to watch the weathering changes as the heart sits on the shore waiting for the storm.

Have you heard? Will you listen?

The souls like leaves are falling, shadowed by the lights on the street, burning under the stars and hypnotized by the moon. Howling a yawn they shout to the Lord, "catch me!" but it's too late, theyre already gone, and the Lord our God lowers his eyes to hide his tears. Before the light of the morning how many will fall, before the dawning of the sun how many will see the fire? Feel the flame? Suffer the pain? Because we turned a blind eye? Because the monster we heard sounded bigger than we thought, than we knew it truely was? Because we didn't feel that freedom, salvation, grace, and love was important enough to share? Because we didn't think that they could hear us, that they wouldn't understand? But you understood. You heard just fine. You took his gift and praised his glory, but what if no one thought you would? How far like leaves would you have fallen into the flame? For the glory of God I praise and sing, and tell the world fore I am called....fore this time I will listen, fore this time I have heard.

I Am Woman, Hear Me Cry.

I go through these phases where I'm completely in love and infatuated with myself and then I have these days when all I do is look in a mirror and start crying. Jaime put it perfectly once saying, "what men don't understand about women is that we can love ourselfs one day and hate ourselves the next". If that isn't the most true statement I don't know what is. To love ones self one day and hate ones self the next...my life in a nutshell. I cried last week after just catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror and then in that same week I felt like the top of the world because of a pair of earrings and a good hair day. I am a beautiful young women (most days) and love myself to the fullest (somedays), and if I think really really hard about it, I wouldn't trade myself for the world.

A Letter To A Friend.

If only for a moment, I could lift up your pain and take the world off your shoulders. If only for a moment, I could remove your veil and let all peace from God fall over you. If only for a moment, you wouldn't feel hurt, pain, or sorrow. If only for a moment you could look into the future, strip down the wall paper of time and eternity, and incrusted in your walls you'd see an everlasting promise fulfilled in every second and minute and hour of your life. If only for a moment, you could talk to God and his voice would call out your redemption for all your heart to hear. If only for a moment, I could give you all that your heart desire. If only for a moment, I could show you the beauty of your own smile. If only for a moment, you could feel the laughter of your own jokes. If only for a moment, you could stand where I stand and see you as I do. If only for a moment, you would know that on any given day you are the most wonderful you that has ever walked these roads. If only for a moment, I could tell you that I love you. And if only for a moment, you would know that I care.

Als, you know I love you; I'll see in what will be only a moment.