Good Habits Are Formed Young

Once upon a time, there lived two princesses by the name of Princess McKissick and Princess Lo. Although they had never met, they were second cousins who shared lots of things in common.

Both were the first grandchildren, both had a sparkle in their eye, both had a twinkle in their toe and both had a smile that could melt anyone's heart. On top of that, both princesses loved their princess toys, many of which their loving grandparents, uncles, aunts, and second cousins had given to them.

One day, both princesses left their kingdoms and went forth into the PhilGood Kingdom to ring in the new year. They had heard stories about each other, but had never met, and despite knowing they were related to one another, had no recollection of the other.

Alas, they finally met, in the PhilGood Kingdom, but were hesitant to meet one another. Instead, they retreated to their own corners, hiding their princess faces, and refusing to interact with one another. Upon the demands of their other cousins, they found themselves forced to sit and play with one another. As they sat down in front of a princess set, both played alone. They were together but apart. No interactions with each other had been made. They continued. Then, as they both reached for the same princess toy, a mutter of "my princess" was heard by all in the kingdom and within nanoseconds, tears welled up in both their eyes as they cried "my princess!"

Nearby, there was some jesters, who baffled and afraid of the dismay, just watched. And then, the eye of the storm closed its eye and slowly, the jesters devised a sneaky plan. They would distract the princesses, tell them of another fun game, and escape the princess territory distinctions. They would distract both princesses with a game of Candyland (really a much more simple and eventually boring game than you may recall from childhood).

A game they had. Connect they did. Friendship did they make. And the rest ... is history.

The rest of the night was spent battling dragons with the help of a courageous prince over... and over... and over... and wait... over again.

And together they became great princess friends. And learned to share with one another when told to do so by their mothers. And learned to sit quietly during a game of White Elephant even if their princess toys might get stolen. And they got along spectacularly!! ... At least until one of them criied again. It must be contagious. And last but not least, I leave you with lessons learned from the princesses.

1) Support each other... even if it's just up the stairs.















2) Sharing is caring.














3) Learn from others.














4) Sometimes....guys just get in the way!

I'm Over The Overs

When I used to tell my brother about guys I was dating, he would always mutter "Don't overthink it." I would claim I wasn't, continue with my stories, asking him if I should text back, call back, or not respond.... A couple seconds would go by and he'd normally say... "You're over analyzing now!" Then, as if not enough, he would then tell me I was over reacting if I tried to rebutt him. I've often thought about those three "overs" that girls are so easily accused of (yeah, it's not just me... don't deny it!). It must not be our fault, it must be built into our systems and if systematically plugged into our very being, how can we deny such feelings of overness?

Yesterday, I took a chance, without much thought and found myself in an "over" situation. In a last minute, gut driven, instinctive reaction, I jumped at the opportunity to stay another night in Salt Lake for a generous flight voucher since my flight was overbooked. As I observed the exhausted families, eagerly awaiting to board their plane, I realized my single status was exceptionally advantageous in this precise situation. Seconds later, I was on my way to the nearby hotel to spend the night.

I forgot it was the Sabbath and alone, refusing to turn on the television and instead retreating to scripture study and journaling, I wondered what else I could do in a suite hotel room (get it.. sweet) by myself. A friend messaged me out of nowhere, telling me he recently had surgery. We're not really close, so I forgot what his surgery was for despite him mentioning it to me a few months earlier. Immediately, I overreacted and wondered why he was messaging me of all people. Are we that close? I thought. Then, I overanalyzed, wondering if I had somehow led him to think we were better friends than I initially presumed. I was basically overthinking it.

I did what anyone would do. I asked him if he was okay. I asked him how it went. He told me there were complications. I inquired more about what it was that was wrong, what the surgery was for, and before I knew it... I blurted, "Do you want a priesthood blessing?" I quickly added, "do you know what that is? ....I know you don't believe, but...." and he responded that he was okay but that he really appreciated it.

Over?.....

The next thing I knew, he was sending me the transcript of his surgery. A bit odd... I'm unsure why this was... but my immediate reaction was exactly that... hmmm, how odd! Unsure what to do, I read the script. And in it, I noticed, the surgeons said a prayer. They didn't end it in the name of Jesus Christ, rather they said in your name Lord...Amen... So, it was a prayer of sorts.

Intrigued. Prompted. Responding.....

"So.. the priesthood blessing.. it's not like they bless you and you're okay..." I stammered, "sometimes, if it's not the Lord's will, something we can't understand, maybe the person praying won't ask for you to be restored to health, just that you understand or whatever..." because somehow I didn't want him to think that I thought him getting a blessing would mean he'd be healed immediately, but then... I realized, wow, this is it - yet another opportunity to share the gospel.... so I continued, "cuz not anyone can give a priesthood blessing, it is men who hold the priesthood (no, I was not going to get into the Aaronic vs the Melchizedek) who are worthy of giving a blessing, meaning they are living their lives, keeping the commandments, etc."... man! was I struggling!

"I appreciate the offer, really," he responded.

The conversation ensued.

We talked about life. He asked me about New Year's. I told him I had an awesome time in Utah and in fact, was still there!

And then, out of nowhere, he asked, "so I can let you know if I wanna do that thing?" Priesthood blessing?!" I asked, but in a much more nonchalant tone, if that is attainable over the internet...
"Ok" he responded. Pause. "You've turned out to be a good friend," he said.

So, maybe sometimes it's good to avoid the "overs" and just think to the Lord and be a good disciple. I know Christ would never have thought... why is SHE touching me? Does she think I like her? hehe.. which is kinda what I thought at first... even if I didn't say it explicitly above. Prideful, I know, but alas, I'm over the overs and now. Instead, I will just aim to see the opportunity in every situation that presents itself to me.

Beware of the Bus

At work, we like to joke around about not pushing anyone under the bus. It's a phrase that has become uncomfortably common among the work environment but alas, still brings a snicker to my face everytime I hear it. Truth be told, we avoid situations where someone might actually get thrown under the bus because it's a selfish sacrifice for one's own safety or well being and nobody wants to be the person pushing someone under or being thrown under.

I often think of this phrase when I'm taking the bus, which has been my normal mode of transportation for the majority of the week. It helps to take my mind off the fact that it is indeed a bit ghetto, that all my important belongings are tucked away safely in my backpack which I refuse to take off throughout the 25 minute ride.

At first, I attempted to read on the bus - quickly realized how motion sick I get and instead observe those around me. For me, the bus is a luxury because it alleviates me from the congested crawl to work on the 10. But for many, it is the only mode of transportation available. For the most part, the demographics are Chinese and Hispanic while the bus drivers are mostly the latter. The reason I noticed this is because often times, when someone gets on the bus who doesn't speak English, it is easy for him or her to communicate with Spanish since the bus driver most often speaks the language. Unfortunately, I can't help but ponder that for the little Chinese grandmas or grandpas who get on the bus, there is not this same luxury. I can help out if the situation arises but thus far it has not and until then, I sit tightly in the front (also cuz I'm too chicken to walk towards the crowded back).

Lately, I have been brought back to the memories of my own wai-puo (grandmother on my mum's side) who passed away in December 2005. She used to take the bus a lot from Monterey Park to Arcadia, mostly to visit us and because she did not want to always be a burden to my parents after wai-gong (grandpops) passed away. Often, we would also go to Monterey Park to visit her, but once she moved to Arcadia with us, she longed for the companionship of her friends and her days spent playing mah-jong. So.. she took the bus to visit her cronies! Just like me (except I go for work since LA parking prices are a nightmare)! But... as she grew older, her memory often slipped. She forgot that grandpa had passed away and yelled at my mom for joking about such a matter. She forgot that I had grown up, saw my little cousin who was 3 at the time and called her by my name. She forgot recent things, but held on tightly to the past memories. And one day.. she forgot where to get off from the bus.

This was pre-cell phone world we live in today. All we knew was Wai-Puo was not at her bus stop, had not returned home, and was nowhere to be found. The entire family freaked out, split up into troopes to scour the greater LA and all the potential bus stops she could have ended up at. We asked all the bus drivers if they saw an old Chinese lady who seemed lost. We eventually located her and she was a good hour away in some city I had never heard of.

I sit on the bus often and think about Wai-Puo and how scared she must have been that day. How lost she must have felt, not able to understand anything everyone was saying to her, just wandering around, hoping her family would find her, knowing that they love her and would not be relentless in locating her. I wonder if anyone offered a kind smile to her, if anyone tried to ask her where she was going, if anyone noticed. Then... I think back to the stories wai-puo and my mom both told me of her past.

...how her right ring finger was crooked because it was shot by a gun when she was only a toddler (even when she was almost not completely there in the family photos we took a year before in which she instinctively tucked that had under), how she had escaped to Taiwan as a refugee with three kids since her first husband had gambled off all their money and didn't live to endure, how she would cook meals of grandeur for all the people in the village, how wai-gong, a handsome and educated engineer would fall in love with her despite her three kids and how she would raise her five kids despite being dirt poor, how she had no fear when killing a chicken on the farm for dinner.... I think about the counseling she gave my mom, aunts and uncles, how she would have been in this situation.. and I realize..she was probably really scared on the inside but on the outside, courageous and determined.

So everytime I'm on the bus.. I think of wai-puo. I think of the strength she had, the faith she had, and the understanding she had when she was lost and am reminded of the same strength I must have when I might feel lost, alone or scared and remember that Heavenly Father is watching after me and that I am never lost, never alone, and never should I fear for faith and fear do not coexist.... if only I could remember that in everything that I do.

Wai-puo didn't live to see my join the Church, didn't live to hear the gospel, didn't live to see any of her grandkids get married or have kids. But wai-puo has been waiting on the other side of the veil and recently, I was able to perform her baptism. As I prepared the name files for wai-gong and wai-puo, I felt a flood of warmth overcome me, a sense of approval from both my grandparents and a sincere thank you for the work I was about to do and I knew, 100%, that was them telling me thank you, guai hai zi

Wai-puo and wai-gong are proud of me. This much I know.

Red Rock Canyon

Thanksgiving for the Phillips this year happened in the city of sin; however, thankfully that which gives Vegas that nickname isn’t what drew us to the city. Instead the plethora of buffets and promise of warm weather made it a destination of choice.

The food was great, the sunshine was nice, but as is the case with all holidays, being with family was the best part of the week. We did our ritual Thanksgiving movie marathon, looked around looking for good Asian food, took lots of pictures, caught up, and had an all around good time. I was able to see my pops show my mom he wasn’t cheap. I saw my mom relish the day off from preparing the lavish dinner we typically have. I got to see my two little cousins who aren’t so little anymore. Sadly, I wasn’t able to see my family walk away from Circus Circus’ dump the chicken in the pot, but I was able to see the fruits of their evening. Apparently they are as good as they said they were; I will doubt no more.

My favorite activity was hiking in Red Rock Canyon. It’s essentially a huge playground for adults; there are multiple peaks, no paths, and you can go wherever your heart desires. Some places it was easy hiking, other places you have to use all fours, and there were a number of people using full rock climbing gear. The path down to where the red rock began was covered in gravel and many people, including myself, were slipping down the somewhat steep slope. Walking down the path, I was worried about how dangerous it must be to hike up the mountain if we were slipping so much just on the path to the start of the mountain.

After getting on the actual red rock, I realized that it would be that dangerous. There was no gravel, it was solid rock, and with decent shoes there was little chance of slipping. The realization that climbing wouldn’t lead to sure death, my dad and I decided to ditch the women and children and be a little more adventurous. We had a blast as we crawled through little crevasses, slide down our butts and made my mom nervous by posing for pictures on high ledges. After exploring a good portion of the mountain, my dad and I returned to the trail head, and waited for the rest of our group. As I waited, I kept seeing all these people slipping as they were walking down the path covered in gravel. Some looked as if they wanted to turn around, as all the slipping made everything seem so dangerous. I wanted to reassure them that once they made it past the gravel, and got on solid ground, things would be much better.

It’s been said that when we choose to ignore what the prophets say, that we change the very ground that we stand on. Sure, we may choose to obey other aspects of prophetic counsel, but the act of picking and choosing what commandments we follow puts us on shaky ground. My experience at red rock reminded me of that quote. When the red rock is in one full piece, it gives you good traction and stable footing. However, when broken up into little pieces, the rocks provide little traction and cause people to slip. Same material, but when taken in pieces instead of as a whole, the outcome is very different. Such is the case we when choose to break the fullness of God’s gospel into little pieces that are most convenient for us. However, when are willing to show faith, and act on prophetic counsel, we will soon find ourselves standing on solid ground, as we gain testimonies of the principles they teach.

Just Another LA Asian Girl?

Most people know that I grew up in a predominantly Asian suburb within Los Angeles County, that I then went to college in a small town just 20 miles east of where I grew up, and that I began working immediately after graduating in LA. That mere synopsis is enough to convince everyone that I'm indeed a LA Asian gal. Why else would I not have left?

Upon taking time to get to know me, the intricacies that outline my life and the parental restrictions placed upon me while growing up come to surface and that perspective often changes.

First, I am proud of the fact that I was born in St. Louis, Missouri. So proud that in fifth grade, while everyone was fighting about who go to do their state project on Hawaii, California or Texas, my selection of Missouri immediately stood finalized since I was the only one. So proud that the miniature St. Louis arch was among one of my prized possessions growing up and I often went to admire it and ask my dad about the time he took me up in the elevator of it when I was a kid. So proud that when I saw a trucker hat that said Missouri, Show Me Yours (because it's the "show me" state), it became part of my weekend gear to represent my birthplace. So proud that when I saw an ugly orange t-shirt that said Missouri Loves Company with a picture of the state and its neighboring states next to it, I exclaimed I want that shirt! ...and subsequently my brother bought it for me as a surprise (but it was too small so I haven't worn it yet) which made me squeal with delight upon receipt. So proud that when the NCAA March Madness final game was in St. Louis, I boasted of that being my birthplace at which point, I heard - that sucks, it's the crap hole of the US. Hmmmm.......

Second, I never had the option of leaving California. As all my friends surveyed all the colleges and universities they would apply to, I was instructed not to apply to any out of state schools by mummy dearest. At the time, I didn't understand and vowed with all my might, to apply no matter what she said. And then I realized there was a hefty application fee and since I was also not allowed to work (even though at 15 I could easily obtain a working permit), it did not seem doable with all my extracurricular activity demands. Years later, I would come to realize this simple restriction was to prevent me from applying to the same school as my high school boyfriend who was one year older, and from using work as an excuse to interact with the rebellious kids all hanging out at the mall and meeting older college guys who preyed on the high school girls working the booths in the center aisles of the mall. That all makes sense now but at the time, it just felt like my parents were clipping my wings and preventing me from flying which meant I would never soar since I could never even fly. Then, when college ended, and my grades bleakly stared back at me, hauntingly indicative that I would not be able to obtain a reputable job, I tried using my vivacious personality to get my foot in the door. Miraculously, it worked, but asking for a starting position anywhere outside of Los Angeles seemed stupid since my connections had been made here. So stay I did.

I didn't actually discover LA until I moved there two and a half years ago and actually lived in LA, LA. I say that because Arcadia is not LA. Arcadia is a suburb, a community of homes, full of peacocks by the Arboretum, a beloved racetrack where we graduated high school and the Santa Anita Fashion Park, which despite the changes over the years, still feels like the same mall as it did in 1992. And then there is LA which is ... well... odd. Busy. Different. Judgmental. (or so it feels...) Similar to how it's portrayed on television - LA is the place where people come from afar to try to make it as a star, materialistic to the nth degree and not somewhere my kids will ever grow up! As I think about it more, the more urgent getting out of LA seems to be. The traffic is horrible, the housing prices are ridiculous and the smog is gross. Here, obsessions over worldly matters of prestige, materialism, success, wealth and fun collide with good ol'd traditional values of honor, loyalty, faith, integrity, chastity, and kindness. And so with that said, it's easy to declare "I hate LA!" without any remorse and feel justified by such a statement.

I was reminded of how detrimental such a resentment can be when my BFF, who went to Berkeley for school and then moved to San Fran where she began working and has been ever since, was staffed in LA for a project. She began complaining to me about how rude everyone in LA was, how despicable the traffic was and how much she missed SF for its public transportation and easy going people- basically everything opposite of what made LA such an awful place to live. Attacked by my own BFF, I strongly felt the urge to defend my city. I explained that traffic wasn't that bad if you knew when to navigate where, that the people she encountered was a one time occurrence and NY people were worse, and that LA was awesome for other reasons. I reminded her of the beautiful sunny weather, the nearby beach, and the cheap and diverse but authentic food options. She slowly softened and agreed there was truth in my rebuttal but stubbornly stuck to the fact that the ugly traffic still outweighed the beauty the city had to offer. I sighed and let her be.

Six months later, as she came to an end of her project in LA, she told me how much she was going to miss LA. She raved about the food, the weather, the proximity of her family, and told me... I think I'm done with SF and ready to come back to LA for a bit. She was done with SF and I was ecstatic at the idea of her moving back! And then... as fate would have it, I ended up in San Jose for a special project of my own, and I too fell in love with SF, at the lack of traffic, the kind people, and slowly, I too welcomed the slightly colder weather, fell in love with places I discovered to eat at, and started to forget that my family was not with me.

So... it got me thinking.. this mentality I had is not good and what have I learned? And this is what I came up with....

1) The grass is always greener on the other side.. so don't take for granted what you have or always wonder about what you don't have.

2) We human individuals adapt well... maybe not immediately, but eventually so persevere and be patient.

3) Avoid negative complaining and strive for positive thoughts of remembering what you are blessed with.

Be that of good cheer.

I may be just another LA Asian girl for now.. but that doesn't mean it won't change some day later and if it does, I will cope and adjust. LA is part of me... but there is always room for more.

What Would You Have Done?!

Although I don't know why, some of the guys I used to date gave me their e-mail and facebook passwords (men tend to have the same password for everything). Maybe they really trusted me... maybe they really loved me... maybe they were slow typers.... maybe they needed me to access something and forgot to change it back...or maybe they were really dumb. I'd like to think the latter but who knows...

A person can do a lot with an e-mail password. In fact, the possibilities are endless. However, before you jump to any rash conclusion about what I did - I admit, I snooped. In my defense, it was not a consistent violation of privacy nor was it done manipulatively with any sort of revenge in mind. Instead, it was just a simple inkling to know more. On top of that, I had confided in the BFF who agreed, it was harmless and given our bored Christmas break lull, we thought it'd be a good idea. Yeah... we were wrong, but that's not the point ... at least not yet.

No good has come from that incident. Not only did we find nothing juicy or interesting at all, we were wrecked with guilt and remorse immediately thereafter. And then, the inevitable happened. It began to loom in the back of my mind and tempt me.. maybe there's something interesting today? Maybe something exciting happened now? I'd like to say it's only when I'm restless that the temptation strikes.. but it's more of a when you least expect it type urge. Luckily, I am happy to report I have been strong enough to resist such destructive desires but I did begin to ponder.... what could I do to get rid of this knowledge?

Julia heard of my snooping incident and told me she was going to e-mail them both and tell them. I begged her not to and she only agreed after I promised, pinky swore, that I would not access their e-mails again. Fearful of how mortifying her notification to them would be, I promised her I would not. And I did not. But still... the thought of should I.... would I... could I... would not pass, could not pass, and did not pass.

My co-workers told me I was crazy. And upon hearing this, I thought.. am I? If you had such privy information, you could tell yourself I won't look now... but what would prevent you from looking in two.... five... ten years? The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. I knew the burden of such information would only grow and I didn't want it! Facebook stalking is already ridiculous as it is - did I need more stalking opportunities tempting me?

I knew I had to do something ... but what?! How could I convince these dummies to change their passwords without giving away the fact that I had violated their trust and accessed their e-mails? I began to defend myself again, thinking I was strong enough. I would not succumb to looking and all could be left alone. But this feeling inside would not disappear. I don't think it was instinctive... nor was it something of my own. It was almost as if I felt prompted to react. But what was prompting me? Not my own will.. but something more powerful, something stronger than myself. I knew I should act... I just felt I should.... but how?!

After obtaining advice from numerous friends and family (my mom said they're stupid for giving me their e-mail but that's their fault, my brother just chuckled and muttered dumb*butts, my best friends roared with laughter and my co-workers were amused by how ridiculous my situation was) or attempting to obtain advice (as most of them just laughed at the pickle I was in), I came up with a solution.

I would threaten them in e-mail that their passwords had been violated! I could be ScaryHacker123 e-mailing them to change their passwords immediately or have all their information compromised. But then... I thought, what if the government came after me and tracked down my IP address and realized who I was? Would I be arrested? Bad plan.. what next?

I would give them a virus in their e-mails! Okay... duh, not a real virus - but a fake one. One of those messages that sends itself to all your contacts and pushes you to realize there's something wrong. It can be asking for money.. or referring you to a website.. or asking you to forward information. Oh, it was brilliant! Only... it had to be harmless and nothing disgusting.. so I drafted up an e-mail that recommended all contacts to check out this cool website www.yougotmail.com (which I checked.. is nothing dirty or virus-ish). I decided to change it up for the second dummy. Not wanting to send another e-mail to all contacts, Claire suggested I change their gmail settings so a background theme would come up when they opened their e-mail. Again... brilliant!

I felt good. I felt like I had acted on a prompting and made a difference. And now, I could go about, knowing that other worldly things would try their best to attack me but at least I had done my own due diligence in ridding myself of one temptation.

So I told Andy about it, thinking I was soooo clever. I may have even asked him if he was proud. And then, to my dismay, he told me, those boys would not change their password. Based on what I did, they would just think the system had a malfunction and disregard it as anything with their e-mail access. UGH. This situation was becoming a wet blanket.

Pride is a funny thing. You often don't realize it is there, staring at you in the face, holding you back from doing something right. In this moment.. I thought why I couldn't just e-mail them and tell them I had their passwords?

1) Because I would look really stupid.
2) Because I would be admitting I had done something wrong - which I had... but still, why do I have to tell them about it?!
3) Because I was embarrassed by my own actions.
4) Because I did something wrong.

But I wanted to fix it. So... I sucked up my own pride, put aside how ridiculous I would soon feel once I sent the e-mail, how psycho crazy I would become to all of their friends who heard the story, and did it.

I didn't even bcc them. I sent them both an e-mail together. The e-mail was succinct and cordial. It told them I had their passwords from before, it had not left my mind, and I had tried to let them know inconspicuously and failed. I apologized and asked them to change their passwords.

It's hard to admit you did something wrong. It's even harder to fix it. But what I learned from my psycho episode is this... pride is dangerous, don't let it get in the way of doing what's right. My girlfriends love this story because it's only something Daisy would do!... but in addition to that, although they all agree it's not something they'd ever do, nobody disagrees that it would have been a constant temptation and everyone agrees that it's for the better. If only I had realized that before I sent the e-mail to all his contacts...

It's Not What You Always Think...

I'm currently in the midst of my sixth and last busy season and as much as I enjoy that statement... there are definitely aspects of it I will miss dearly.

I'll miss the difficult times that bring a group of random people together, the shared enthusiasm for yet another over-indulgent but firm sponsored meal as the highlight of the day, the random Starbucks and Jamba Juice breaks during the day which warrant a breath of fresh air(literally and metaphorically), the "oh! I may have found an issue" ah-ha initial excitement, moments the "oh! man... I really have a lot of work now" eventual dread moments, the "oh! am I going to ever finish it in time?" threateningly permanent pondering moments, the "man, I've been stuck in a bare room with white walls and fluorescent lights for way too long" moment, the reminder that it's late when the cleaning lady or man comes in to take out the trash, the painful growing pains, the memorable team ramblings, the high anxiety, the tight deadlines, the plethora of coaching moments and everything and anything that is..busy season. And like the run-on sentence that just was, that is exactly how busy season feels. Intense. Extreme. And hopefully... over soon!

For the last three weeks, my days have been jam packed with client meetings, update meetings and team meetings. Among all the meetings, we were told on Friday, as a team, to determine if we'd participate in the annual Homewalk which our managing partner sponsors. We were strongly (if they could force us, I'm sure they would) encouraged to attend and after the manager left us with the task of compiling a report of who would be going, the room was filled with bitterness and resentment. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was the deadline. Maybe it was the messy conference table strewn with paper clips, crumbs from the variety of dinners from the past weeks, clutter of post-its both used and new, and the piles of utensils on the side table that had accumulated from our time spent eating at our computers... whatever it was, nobody seemed happy. Negative Nancy's, Debbie Downers and Pouty Patty's all around... alas, where was Optimistic Oscar?

Nobody wanted to go. Why should we go to a work function on the weekend? I don't even like the homeless, can I help some other cause instead? What excuse can I think of to justify not going? I was disgusted by the conversation topic but I did not retreat entirely and instead I encouraged well thought out excuses for not going and indirectly contributed to the growing consensus that "firm-sponsored community service" seems self-serving. The complaints continued and began to wear on me. I myself, had told everyone I could not go because of a wedding but when team members began to comment on how they'd rather spend time with their own families instead of dragging 'em out to the event, I grew sad. It seems so often, once the incentive to load your resume or college application with volunteer service disappears, less people are willing to donate their time to the service of others. I grew mad. Why couldn't everyone be more selfless and stop thinking of only themselves? And then, in a fury of typed messages to a friend, I was reminded not to judge. I was reminded of those who might choose to anonymously give their time to others. I was reminded to be thoughtful, considerate and have charity towards everyone. I grew taller .. and realized... I better repent.

A few hours went by and like an elementary school colored parachute that you lift high up, run under and sit at the edges of the chute now in back of you so that you are engulfed in a parachute tent of colors, the stress seemed to loom over our heads. And then.. without any real turning point, the parachute seemed to just deflate on its own and the room lightened up. A joke was told. A sarcastic but funny remark was shared. And then.. we seemed to be normal again.

I sat there.. thinking, if the wedding isn't until later, I can probably do the walk in the morning. Again, talk of who was going came up and this time, I chimed in that I might be able to go. "Well, if you go, I will go too," a co-worker responded ... "I just don't want to go alone." And then, as if on cue, another spoke up and said, "I guess I'll probably be going too..." and then, with seemingly begrudging hesitation, everyone else agreed.

I sat there... stared at my computer screen... and was dumbfounded by the sudden change of hearts. The intensity in the room had only added to the reactions I had witnessed only hours before and upon doing so, I quickly passed judgment... yet a few hours later... I knew there were other concerns that had stopped them from fully committing which made me think of all the other times I quickly conclude on someone or something because of my initial observation and then am wrong. And I realized... it's really not what I always think. I should really work on those thoughts - on controlling them and ensuring my thoughts are not too critical and judgmental so they cannot then influence my words or my actions.

At the end of the day... it's not what you always think. ... and even if it is what you always think, letting some time pass as part of your confirmation process can't hurt.