Dedicated to Mom

Here is a paper I wrote in honor of my beautiful, wonderful, compassionate, hard-working, patient, loving, amazing mother:

The crisp air whipped my hair playfully around my head and nipped gently at the tip of my nose, signaling that my favorite time of year had arrived once again. Yesterday, our traditional Thanksgiving meal was spent with my father’s side of the family in Washington, Illinois in the basement of the same quaint, old church. A bounty of delicious casseroles, warm rolls, buttery mashed potatoes, roasted turkey and ham, and endless deserts filled the plates of all present. Family members from four generations engaged in light-hearted conversation, sharing the numerous, exciting events that had occurred since our last gathering. Eventually, we would all part our separate ways, but with the assured hope that we would soon see each other again with the next approaching holiday.

Immediately upon returning home, my mother and I unearthed our comfy, flannel pajamas buried deep within our closets. We were quickly donned head to toe in our coziest night clothes, a sure sign that the winter chill had finally arrived. Snuggling under fleece blankets, we went to sleep early, our dreams filled with big plans for the next morning. Long before the sun was awake, our alarm clocks were ringing and we were bustling around the house, preparing for the long day ahead. It was Black Friday, and the die-hearted bargain shoppers rushed to stores in hopes of finding the best deals of the year. We jumped into the car with our purses secured firmly on our shoulders and mugs of steaming caffeinated beverages clutched in our hands. It was 3:00 in the morning when our adventure first began at Kohl’s. After hours of fast-paced power shopping and the longest lines I have ever seen in my entire life, we had accomplished our shopping mission, our trunk piled high with bags of presents for everyone on our lists. We were exhausted from the strenuous activity of pushing through crowds, carrying heavy bags filled with our purchases, and bending high and low to search the store shelves for the best bargains we could find. We pulled into Bob Evans before the sun had peaked over the horizon and were soon seated in an inviting booth, looking through the breakfast menu. While sipping our second round of coffee and tea and waiting for our orders to arrive, we discussed our shopping success and giggled like young girls about how much of a steal we had gotten on each of our purchases.

While I sat in the booth and energetically chatted away, I realized how much I loved getting to spend this one-on-one time with my mom. Even though our age barrier is significant, it felt as though we were simply two young women enjoying an adventurous shopping trip together. I have always been very lucky to share such a close relationship with my mother. We often see directly eye-to-eye on everything from the simplest details to the most significant issues. I think one of the most flattering comments I have ever received is being told that I am just like my mother. Though we do have occasional disagreements, we never hold grudges over small misunderstandings or clash over tremendous issues. I confide in her as if she is my best friend, sharing every dream, hope, frustration, sadness, or insignificant thought with her. Whenever I need to talk, she is eager to listen. She hears every word that I have to say, comforting my disappointments and celebrating my joys. She willingly shares her priceless wisdom with me whenever I need guidance, yet knows when I must make a decision on my own. As I evaluate the origins of my personality, I have been surprised to discover how many of my own character traits I share with my mother. She has been my steadfast role model, my most trustworthy companion, my unwavering encourager, and my biggest cheerleader. There is no other woman who I would rather emulate than her. She has confronted so many devastating struggles and persevered through each one of them, emerging even stronger than before. When the world has crashed down around her, she still manages to carry a breathtaking elegance that defies all logic. Her beauty is genuine and exudes from deep within her heart. The humility and grace she possesses naturally draws others toward her, and I have seen so many people comforted by her loving spirit and uplifting words. She has an incredible capability to find hope in the midst of despair and has given healing to countless broken spirits. Her faith in the Lord is unshakable and her passion to serve God is unwavering. I am so proud to be the daughter of such a beautiful woman of God. 

Poetry

My attempt at writing poetry from a few years ago...
P.S. I'm really not this depressing in person! Just a little over-dramatic now and then. ;)

Never the Same

I looked into your eyes,

And wished we’d never said goodbye.

I saw the memories of yesterday,

And wished you could come back some way.

I remember those final words

That I dream I never heard.

I thought you would be here forever,

Even in the rainy weather.

My dreams of love will never be

Because you underestimated me.

You had problems you couldn’t control,

But it was my heart that you stole.

I was your best friend, your sole mate,

But I guess now it’s too late.

I used to think we’d get back together.

Now I know that day will be never.

My heart is broken because of our past.

The good, the bad memories will always last.

I wish I could say that I’ll be fine,

And the heart that you’re holding isn’t mine.

Now is the hardest thing to say.

It’s goodbye forever, not until “someday.”

Your big brown eyes always made me smile.

For you, I’d catch a star, run a mile.

But here and now the love story ends.

Broken and Worthless

I was once filled with happiness and laughter.

But now, nothing seems to matter.

You were the world to me.

My heart is ripped open and empty.

I thought you loved me. I thought you cared.

Now I realize all you thought about was Claire.

Living in a fairytale world only lasted a while.

When you looked at me, my heart would smile.

I can’t believe I was so clueless.

To you, I am simply worthless.

I poured out the last of my soul to you.

Little did I know, you had another girl to run to.

As I read your true feelings, I could feel my heart break.

My time is wasted because you’re completely fake.

I wish I could say that I’ll be fine.

And that the heart you’re holding isn’t mine.

But, because of you, I can’t tell a lie.

I’m so broken, I wish I could die.

Every moment of my life is yours to keep.

Don’t you see that I cry myself to sleep?

If only there was a way to describe

The feeling I get when I look into your eyes.

You never understood how much you meant.

This connection was never an accident.

Each day, I’m forced to have a smiling face.

Then reality hits, no one could take your place.

I can’t hide my feelings much longer.

While I’m getting weaker, you’re growing stronger.

You’re still Prince Charming, but I’m no longer Cinderella.

Here, there’s no safety blanket, no protective umbrella.

The girl of your dreams is standing by your side.

My breathe is gone, the last tear I’ve cried.

For you, life moves on.

For me, my hope is gone.

When you’re with her, please don’t remember me.

I want you to remain complete and carefree.

My life is ruined and filled with darkness.

It is forever broken and worthless.

WONDERING WHY

The warmth of a late spring breeze

Weaving wearily among the bud-laced trees.

Specks of bronze light leaking through

And painting pictures of a heavenly hue.

The lighthearted chatter of two feathery friends,

Their honey-sweet harmonies ceasing to end.

Dawn-awakened flowers releasing a delicate breathe

Like a soothing whisper sent to calm a sudden death.

As the billowing clouds sail along the endless blue sky,

Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder why.

“God, why did You create this breathtaking place

And leave my heart with only an empty space?”

Dreams Awakened

Here is the first chapter of a book that I hope to continue writing and eventually publish...I'd love feedback!

DREAMS AWAKENED

Chapter One

            Sometimes, the past may not seem important. It may appear as though the future is all that really matters. But, what if your entire past slipped away in an instant? Unfortunately, this unlikely fate was laid upon my shoulders. With every memory erased from mind, I was given the burden of piecing my entire identity back together. It was like working a jigsaw puzzle without a picture of the finished product to use as a guide. My only clues were the dreams that invaded my tranquil sleep each night. Through my journey, I have recognized the significance of understanding the past, because it determines the reality of the present. In an attempt to recount my story of rediscovery, I must begin from the end—the end of my first life and the awakening of my second...

My eyes fluttered open and my heart started beating for what seemed like the first time. All I could see was a blinding whiteness surrounding me, pressing my rib cage against my lungs. I wrestled for air and tried desperately to breath, to perform a task that should come naturally. I strained to see through the white haze lingering in every direction and focus on the objects around me. I was terrified to slip back into the emptiness from which I had emerged. Slowly, the light adjusted and the distant fog drew itself closer as hard edges of furniture began to appear. I could make out a massive oak armoire encasing a large television in front of me. Four blank, white walls stabbed into each other at sharp corners, holding me captive in their cold cell. I glanced down at my feeble body, which was strapped onto an immense hospital bed by starched linens.

Suddenly, my head filled with a resounding tick that made my whole body throb with newly discovered pain. I scoured the room, searching for the source of the piercing noise that echoed inside my head. The sound began to diminish as I

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realized that it came from a large clock hanging sinisterly upon the lifeless walls. At that moment, other strange noises began streaming through my ears. A high-pitched squeal reverberated from a machine to my right as zigzag lines jutted across the screen. Multiple wires snaked from the machine and ended at my wrists, where a needle punctured the skin. I sensed a steady thumping coming from deep within my chest. Unexpectedly, the awareness of my heartbeat triggered an abrupt realization. Somehow, I knew I was in a hospital room and that some terrible event must have occurred to place me here. Yet, I could not recall a single memory from before I had awakened. It was as if my entire past had slipped away into a sea of darkness. In fact, I didn’t even know who I was.

Questions began surging through my head and I started to panic. The machine next to me seemed to come to life and started going wild. Its lines raced across the screen in a menacing pattern and its beeping became louder and more erratic. My heart slammed against the walls of my chest and my blood began to tingle as it rushed through my burning veins. I opened my mouth, desperately searching for a voice within me to scream. Just then, I heard footsteps hastily approaching the room. Startled, I quickly shut my mouth and glared at the turning door handle. A frazzled-looking woman burst through the door and fled to my bedside.

            “Sweetheart, you’re finally awake! We’ve been waiting so anxiously for this day to come.” The nurse’s voice sounded odd to me, almost like she was talking through a dense sheet of glass. My disposition must have shown the terror and confusion I felt, because her expression switched immediately from excitement to concern. At that point in time, her striking silvery-gray hair caught my eye. It was contained in a muddled bob, which topped her plump frame and enhanced her rosy complexion. She wore scrubs in the same desolate white tone as the walls and a nametag that read “Margie RN” was clipped to her breast pocket. While bustling around me, she poked and prodded every part of my body with alien instruments and made scribbles upon a clipboard she cradled in her arm.

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Abruptly, she stopped her scurrying and studied me sympathetically. Her hand reached over the bleached covers and gently patted my cheek.

            “You’ve been through a lot, poor thing,” she cooed soothingly and stroked my numb face. It was as if she was somehow trying to soften my horrified countenance. “Your future is only looking up from here, you just wait and see.” I wondered where “here” was, or where “there” had been. How had I reached this place of uncertainty? What is going to happen to me now?

Almost as an answer to my jumbled inquiries, she piped in, “The doctor will be in to see you soon. He will do a short examination and explain your circumstances. I’m sure he’ll be extremely pleased to see you in such a promising state, especially after the condition we received you in when they brought you here…” Her words drifted off and I’m almost positive I saw a shudder crawl along her spine. However, in my hysterical state, I could not be certain. She made a few hasty marks on her clipboard and with one last sorrowful glance in my direction, dashed out of the room.

            Within minutes, a young, dignified-looking man appeared at the door. He bore a long, crisp jacket and a stethoscope around his neck. The chestnut brown hair that framed his dominant jawbone was neatly trimmed and his sturdy build added to his handsome appearance. His presence carried authority and knowledge, and was far less frazzled than my earlier visitor had been. For the first time since I’d awakened from the bleak emptiness, I felt relatively at peace. His eyes glowed with warmth and an assuring smile spread across his lips.

            “It’s such a pleasure to see life flowing through you again.” His words soothed my apprehensive heart and, for a moment, I forgot why I’d been so afraid. The moment was short-lived, however, as a new torrent of questions overwhelmed me. What did he mean by “life flowing through me again”? Did I die? Is this some sort of afterlife?

Before I could continue with such irrational thoughts, he began, “My name is Doctor Henry. I’ve been caring for you ever since your arrival at Saint Charles Medical Hospital. I’m here to try to clarify as much as possible about this

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situation because I am sure there is much that you don’t understand.” He paused and looked me directly in the eye, preparing me for what he would say next. “Three weeks ago, you were admitted into Saint Charles as the result of a traumatic car crash. It’s a miracle you came to us all in one piece, because the vehicle you were riding in was completely destroyed. As a matter of fact, firefighters had to use the Jaws of Life to pry you out.”

My head was spinning now. I was in a car accident? Where was I traveling to when it happened? Was anyone else in the car with me and--were they still alive? Doctor Henry continued on in his same placid tone, “As soon as the ambulance reached the hospital, we transferred you directly to the intensive care unit. You’ve been in a severe coma for the past few weeks and we questioned whether you’d come out of it alive.” I could not believe what I was hearing. How could all of this have happened to me?

 “According to Nurse Margie’s observations, you are in a promising physical state. Unbelievably, there appears to be no permanent physical damage done to your body. I can’t think of any reasonable explanation other than a miracle must have taken place. All I can say is that there is an undeniable reason you are still alive. Great prospects must be in store for you after surviving such a catastrophe.” A twinkle caught his eye and the corners of his mouth stretched into an uplifting grin. I wanted to exude the same hope that Doctor Henry had found, but I remained stiff. My fear restrained me and I was unable to express any sort of joy. Still, he remained upbeat and added,

“This calls for much celebration, but first, I must ask you a few questions.” Was I hearing him correctly? Why would he want to ask me questions? I still had so many questions of my own that I longed to have answered.

            Doctor Henry cleared his throat, glanced at the clipboard he held studiously in his left hand, and proceeded, “Alright. We’ll take this one step at a time. Give me the best answer you can and we will go from there. What is your name?” I searched every corner of my mind for some reasonable response to such a simple question, but I could not deliver an answer. A blank expression

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shadowed across my face. Doctor Henry looked a little dismayed and a crease appeared across his smooth forehead. He urged on, “Where are you from?” My thoughts whirled, yet no words came to my lips. The questions persisted, “How old are you… who are your parents…do you remember anything about the accident?”

“I—I don’t know,” I mustered. My own voice sent chills through my bones, maybe because the sound of it was still so foreign to me. Doctor Henry’s expression transitioned from looking dismayed to (could it be?) almost heartbroken with my inability to complete what should have been a painless

examination. He flipped the clipboard pages desperately, clearly searching for some piece of information, though I was not sure what it was.

“Hm…” His eyes slowly rose from the pages on the clipboard and met mine.           

            “Wh-what is it?” I whimpered, yearning to know, yet utterly terrified to hear the answer. Doctor Henry grew entirely solemn.

            “My dear, it looks as if you are suffering from amnesia.” 

The Life of Brent Johnson

This is an article I wrote about my brother a while back, remembering his incredible life and honoring the precious memories I hold close to my heart. I hope by reading this you can feel like you knew Brent in person and can see the awesome young man that he was. Enjoy!

My name is Kaitlyn Duchien and I am honored to be the younger sister of Brent Edward Johnson. Brent’s incredible character and courage impacted countless people during his lifetime. Unfortunately, tragedy cut his life short at the age of nineteen. However, I have been given the opportunity to share the inspirational legacy of leadership that Brent has left behind. My hope is that Brent’s life will continue to touch the hearts of many, even though his time on earth has come to a close.

 Words can not sufficiently express the grief my family and I have experienced through loosing such a precious member of our family. But, I believe that by releasing some of the many memories of Brent treasured within our hearts, we will be able to make a tremendous leap in the healing process. This struggle had also taught me many lessons, one of which is the importance of reaching out to others who are grieving. One way that I personally have been able to do this is by sharing my journey of loss and offering support and encouragement to others who carry the same burden. My greatest hope is that Brent’s life will continue to bring joy and inspiration to those who are discouraged and spread the hope that there is life beyond physical death. 

Brent was more than a brother to me; he was also my best friend and my greatest role model. We were born ten years apart, yet the age difference was never a barrier. From the very day I was born, Brent was proud to be a big brother, calling me his “my little buddy.” Throughout the years, we could always be found engaged in some sort of activity together, from going on hikes through the woods behind our house to watching my favorite Disney movie 101 Dalmatians, possibly 101 times. Brent’s friends would often come over to our home to drive around our old golf cart or go fishing at a nearby pond. However, Brent would never brush me aside like many older brothers might do when their friends arrived. Instead, he and his friends would eagerly persuade me to join them in their adventures. I gladly tagged along and loved getting to spend time with my brother. 

Brent was an avid wrestler throughout his junior high and high school years at Mahomet-Seymour High School in Mahomet, Illinois. Our family spent many hours in numerous gyms cheering on Brent as he competed with his opponents. I practically grew up in the bleachers and watching my brother wrestle became second nature to me. Brent’s character exuded determination, perseverance, ambition, courage, and self-control. He constantly strove to do his best and pushed himself to improve whenever possible. This character resulted in outstanding accomplishments within every area of his life, including wrestling. Brent placed fourth in sectionals his freshman and sophomore years of high school, barely missing the qualification of third place required to go to state. However, with much hard work and motivation, he advanced on to state his junior and senior years. Also, his persistence resulted in him never missing a single practice or match throughout his entire wrestling career. As a result, he earned the Iron Man award all four years, which set a record that cannot be surpassed. 

Brent was a natural-born leader, and the drive that propelled him to achieve his goals also pushed others to accomplish theirs. Though his skill may have appeared threatening to the younger or less-experienced wrestlers, he was incredibly humble and never boasted of his success. Because of this quiet leadership, Brent was chosen as a captain of the wrestling team his senior year. 

In many ways, Brent was a superlative athlete. Yet, he never let his demanding wrestling schedule interfere with spending time with his family, attending church activities, or maintaining the high academic standards he set for himself. He graduated from Mahomet-Seymour High School with honors. I am amazed with the amount of self-control and discipline Brent possessed. He managed to be so successful with school and sports, but he never passed up an opportunity to spend time with our family. Often, he would help me with my homework or guide me through a computer game, enthusiastically finding ways to spend time with his “little buddy.” Countless memories remain from those simple moments spent together and reflecting on them continuously brings me joy.

Brent was involved in Boy Scouts since he was five years old and achieved the highest rank of Eagle Scout at the age of seventeen. As a final requirement to achieve this ranking, Brent had to create a project that would benefit the community in some way. Brent chose to construct an awards podium for the various athletic events that take place at the Mahomet-Seymour gymnasium. He noticed that whenever medals were given at the conclusion of a wrestling match, there was no way of presenting the award in a professional ceremony. To this day, Brent’s completed podium is used after many sporting events at the high school, and it stands as a symbol of the lasting legacy he has left behind. 

After Brent graduated from Mahomet-Seymour in 2003, he enrolled in Southern Illinois University in Carbondale, Illinois, to pursue a business career. He became involved in a number of events during his freshman year, including using the knowledge he had gained from his wrestling career to instruct other college students in lifting weights and exercising at a campus gym. He exhibited his servant’s heart by volunteering to work on Habitat for Humanity projects. Brent also joined a fraternity at SIU and became active in the various programs it offered. He took up the role of treasurer, the only position available to freshman fraternity members, and later became co-captain of a fundraising performance conducted by his fraternity and a partnering sorority. 

Brent’s freshman year of college progressed smoothly, and he enjoyed experiencing all that college had to offer. One weekend, he participated in a camping trip with other members of his fraternity (where?). They decided to go canoeing late that night, and by circumstances still unknown to us, Brent’s canoe tipped. Kyle, the other young man riding in Brent’s canoe, had never been canoeing before; yet, Brent was extremely familiar with canoeing from all of his Boy Scout experiences. He used his knowledge to try numerous times to turn the canoe back over, but the strenuous task eventually fatigued him beyond his limits. In one last effort of survival, Brent and Kyle decided to start swimming towards shore. Brent had been swimming ahead of Kyle, encouraging him with the words, “Come on Kyle. You can make it. You can make it.” Because of his selfless character, Brent was more concerned about the life of his fellow fraternity member than he was with his own. We are still unaware of the complete details that occurred during the last struggle towards shore. However, Kyle survived and Brent did not. Other fraternity members have refused to release vital details about the accident. Thus, the final hours of my brother’s life remain a mystery. We received the news that Brent was missing on Sunday morning, April 4th, 2004, and his body was found five days later. After scouring the bottom of the lake with divers and search dogs, his body was finally found, only thirty yards from shore.

Brent’s flourishing life came to an abrupt close as a result of this heartbreaking incident. From when we received the call that Brent was missing until they confirmed his death five days later, our family remained in excruciating anxiety. The proceeding months after we accepted this shocking reality were a hazy blur. My mother, father, sister, and I all dealt with the tragedy in extremely different ways, gradually releasing our sorrowful emotions over year’s time. Though each of us has undergone an individual recovery, we also found it absolutely crucial to bond together more than ever before. We rely on each other for support, encouragement, and hope to press on. Even though it has been almost six year since the devastating news of Brent’s death, I still vividly remember that Sunday morning like it was yesterday. I know that the hole in my heart once filled by my brother’s love will never be completely mended, yet I have found healing in so many ways. As I continue moving forward with each new step of my life, I will take the lasting memory of my brother with me wherever I go. The love that I have for him will never change or fade away. Brent was a faithful believer in God, accepting Christ as his Savior at a young age. Therefore, I cling to the hope that I will see my brother again someday, waiting patiently for me at the heavenly gates. Until that day, I will keep sharing the memories of Brent with the world and watch his legacy of enduring leadership spread beyond the limits of his life on earth.

Starting Point...

Hello, and welcome to my world. My name is Kaitlyn, and I'm fifteen years old. Simply put, I'm a writer. Words surge through me with every beat of my heart. Writing is like oxygen to me, because without it, I cannot exist. Though I'm only a sophomore in high school and many would say I've still got my whole life before me, I've faced my share of trials. Yet with every issue I've endured, writing has been my outlet, the one tool that allows me to disconnect from the world for a short time and plug in to myself and my relationship with the Lord. Writing has been my constant confidant, a place where I can release a whirlwind of emotions and, at the same time, receive healing and progress into the next stage of life that my Heavenly Father has planned for me. I've created this blog more as a journal for myself, to straighten out my thoughts, document some "crazy exciting" milestones, and express the ups and downs of life. But ultimately, I hope that writing this blog will allow me to become more in-tuned with the thoughts of my Savior, Jesus Christ. With all of that said, I hope that God can somehow use me through this blog to express His unconditional love to someone else. I give Him the glory for all that I am and all that I will be.

Until next time,
               ~Kaitlyn <3


"For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of POWER, LOVE, and SELF-DISIPLINE. So you must never be ashamed to tell others about our Lord." (2 Timothy 1:7,8 New Century Version)

"God comforts us not to make us comfortable, but to make us comforters." -John Henry Jowett