Dear Mom

Dear Mom,

I was reading an article the other day by Rob Lowe about sending his son off to college. After I bawled my eyes out, I decided to write this letter to you. I wasn’t crying because I was imagining dropping my own kids off at college one day, although now I know that I will be entirely unfit for that experience, I was crying because it had so many similarities to when you and dad first dropped me off at Tennessee. In that moment reading his piece, I think for the first time, I fully reflected on what that experience must’ve been like for you and dad.

To be honest, some days it still feels like yesterday. I’ll never forget. We packed up the car and with tears in my eyes, I waved goodbye to Alex and our house as we pulled out of the driveway, setting forth on an 800 mile journey to what would be my new home sweet home, Rocky Top Tennessee. 

Although sad to leave home and my friends, I was excited for the new adventure that lied ahead; a roommate, new friends, an opportunity with the basketball team and all of the unknown that is going away to college.

Upon arriving to Tennessee, we spent a couple of days meeting and greeting and getting things prepared before move in day approached. Move in day, how could we forget that gem? It was hot as if the devil himself was walking the earth and I was blessed to be assigned to the dorm building with no AC. You and dad worked your butts off, sweating away and toting all of my things up the stairs to the second floor. Meanwhile, you were on a mission to get me settled in like only a mother could. Hot, hungry and exhausted, we got the job done.

With you guys heading out in the morning and me staying in my new dorm that night, it came time to part ways. Excited that one of the older basketball girls was already there, ready to show me around town, I stood strong. We said our goodbyes, gave each other our hugs and held back most of the tears.  (Secretly, I planned to call you guys in the morning before you left to come say bye one more time, but I broke my phone that night.) 

Then came the final moment that is forever etched in my memory. Just as I was walking out of the dorm, you and dad were driving by and there you were in the front seat, sobbing. You unrolled your window and through your cries mumbled, “Bye Jussy, we love you.”

I can’t remember if I held it together then, but I know in my homesick moments, that memory always opened the flood gates the quickest. At the time though, I still didn’t fully understand the depth of your tears. Sure, I had left home, but home wasn’t going anywhere, I’d be home for Christmas, home for summer and so on. 

But you, as my mom, knew differently. You knew your little girl had left home for good, she was out to see the world. Sure she’d be back to visit, but that wasn’t home anymore. She was becoming an adult, on her own, and would be mostly taking care of herself now.

Well mom, I’m writing this to tell you that’s not true. Home is not so much a place, as it is a comfort and it’s a comfort that I can only ever get from you, my mom. Home is that phone call or FaceTime anytime I'm sick, upset, worried or confused, that even from one million miles away, never fails to make me feel better. Home is that escape that's only a flight away where I know I can be fed, catered to and cared for like no other human can possibly provide. And to this day, there’s no place quite like home. 

So mom, I just want to say thanks for dropping me off at college that day. Thank you for unselfishly supporting my dreams and encouraging me to get out and experience the world. Thank you for always being my biggest fan and my biggest supporter. And most importantly, thanks for always keeping home, home.

You have no idea what I feel like I owe to you, but just know even though I won’t be moving back “home” anytime soon, your baby girl will always be your baby girl and I need you now as much as I ever have.

I love you!

Jussy

 

Oh the Places You Will Go...

For those of you who were following along via Instagram, Snapchat or random Facetimes from me when I was able to find some wifi, I recently(ish) returned from an extended European excursion that started as a 10-day mission trip to Greece and Cyprus and turned into a month abroad. 

To keep track and bring everyone up to speed, on February 25, I left LA for DC. I spent three days exploring DC, meeting the mission team from National Community Church who I’d be traveling with and preparing for the trip. 

On Tuesday, February 28, we boarded a plane for Greece, ten of us in total. We flew to Thessaloniki, where we served in the Northern Greece area for the first half of the trip, including spending time at the Nea Kavala refugee camp. From there, we continued on to Cyprus where our host family is expanding their ministry.

At the conclusion of the mission trip, with my friend Emily (the one who led and invited me on the trip), I extended my stay in Europe to further explore Cyprus and return to Greece where we visited Athens, Meteora and stopped to see our friends at the camp one last time. 

Then, the day before I was scheduled to fly back to the states, I received a call asking me come to Budapest where a friend was filming a movie. An hour away via flight, I rerouted to Hungary, where a few days turned into a couple of weeks. 

Despite half of my trip being unplanned, and the two halves being complete contrasts of one another, it was the most incredible, culturally comprehensive, educational month of my life and I’m so grateful for that. My eyes were peeled wide open and I came to find that once your soul encounters experiences such as these, you are transformed and enlightened indefinitely.

If you’re one of several people who has seen me since I returned home and upon asking me how my trip was received the generic answer of, “it was good! I’m still processing it…” I owe you a real answer. I apologize. It was good and I was still processing it, but I was also exhausted and kind of hit the ground running back in the U.S.

Furthermore, I owe a real answer to the people who supported and encouraged me going on my mission trip because without them, I never went. And perhaps most importantly, to the people I met, who’s lives I was moved by and who’s stories deserved to be told, I owe an array of significant accounts.  

As you can see, there was lots of traveling and numerous adventures. Therefore, I decided the best way to tell the stories would be by sharing a bit of each journey individually in a semi-chronological little series. 

The mission trip alone includes so many stories in itself and I’m going to start there. Of course, I hope you all read along, but more importantly with all that is going on in the world, my biggest wish is that you will be able to not just empathize, but ultimately identify with these people who’s lives, so vastly different than ours, are also much the same.

To help provide a visual to go along with my next post, below is a little video I put together from the small bit of footage I have primarily from the Nea Kavala refugee camp in Polykastro, Greece.

For reference, Nea Kavala was built on an abandoned airfield with 300-400 shipping containers serving as “homes” to individuals and families living in the camp. The containers were an upgrade made in October from tents, which prevented the camp from being shut down for otherwise unsuitable and unsustainable living conditions during the cold winter. Although at a premium, some electricity and running water is also now available within the camp. With living conditions still far from fathomable for many of us, this version of the camp is considered "good" in comparison to many others. Despite it all, the people we met were kind, welcoming and an unbelievably incredible example of resiliency in the face of extreme adversity.

Hello Justineslife, My Old Friend

Woah. I feel like I just read all of my old text messages and fell back in love with an ex-boyfriend.

Photo courtesy of DJ Williams

Photo courtesy of DJ Williams

I didn't. But I did just spend the last hour reading every single word on this site and it brought me so much joy. I was excited, proud, empowered.

Maybe it sounds crazy, but I needed that reminder. I think I had actually forgotten why I ever began this thing or what it was about. I mean, it's pretty obvious I haven't visited in a long time, (*cough* November *cough*), but just right now, I fell back in love.

I remembered how much of my passion was ignited within these words. I remembered how much I enjoyed just telling stories, expressing myself with no assignment, no boundaries and why I created this in the first place.

I don't have an excuse for why I've been absent. I could blame busyness or some other distraction or make something up, but the truth is, I actually have a slew of drafts that I just never finished or never posted. 

Maybe I'll blame perfectionism...you know, I couldn't finish because I couldn't make the words come together perfectly, so I lost focus and ran out of time. Except that doesn't work either because unfortunately, I've learned that when you let "perfectionism" plant roots inside of you, it begins to grow vines that suffocate and restrict you, and all you're left with is a bunch of unfinished nothingness and another excuse. 

So I guess this is my vow to exchange "perfect" for continuous improvement and to get back to writing, expressing, and sharing...I've come to talk with you again.

LOVE YA'LLL MAN FOR REAL! THIS FOR EVERYBODY IN MP, KNOXVEGAS, MY MAMA PEANUT!

*Ok, if anyone actually got that reference, leave a comment below. I'll send you $100............in peanuts.*

More Baseball, Less Hate

Despite being an exceptionally technologically savvy 50-year-old, my dad refuses to get a cell phone. Therefore, it is rare that we speak on the phone without it first being via my mom. Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised when I answered the phone the other day to  'Mom' only to hear my dad on the line.

"Jus, it's dad!" I could already hear the elation in his voice. "Hey...how about those cubs?!" He was calling to share in his joy of the incredible World Series and who better to call than his sports loving daughter.

My dad's excitement was rooted in being a Chicagoland native, but more of a casual baseball fan and an occasional Wrigley field attendee, he admitted it was the series that reeled him in. Let's be honest, wasn't that the case for most of us? I'll be the first to admit, despite being an avid sports fan, I don't follow baseball. In fact, I'm almost certain that I've never followed an entire World Series before this year, but how could you not? It was a series made for the big screen. The storylines were incredible and so was the baseball. 

I think it's safe to say that we've never had a more followed World Series, nor has baseball ever attracted this many casual fans. We were all reeled in. I had friends, who I'd recently taught what free throws were, talking about baseball games. I was on the set of a movie and in between takes, folks were watching on phones, riding on every pitch. I stood in the middle of a fancy steakhouse in West Hollywood while everyone screamed and cheered as if they were in a rowdy Chicago sports bar.

It was beautiful, and to me, call it a (seventh inning) stretch, this World Series was a symbol of so much more than baseball. It was the first time in a long time that our entire nation was on the same page. Even despite different teams, we were all on common ground, finding pure joy together in none other than America's pastime.

During a tumultuous time in this country, and perhaps one of the most divisive elections ever, baseball gave us a week of reprieve from the exhausting presidential narrative. We were happy. We were sharing like interests. We were united. It was a reminder that maybe we're all a lot more alike than we tend to think. 

The conversation with my dad unexpectedly, but inevitably, turned from baseball to other topics much bigger than baseball, like the state of our country and this upcoming election. Anyone who knows Steve-O, knows my dad is the truth. He is an unbelievably kind, reasonable, loving, selfless individual. We didn't necessarily discuss politics in particular, nor are we over the moon with either of the candidates. Instead we discussed how much we both HATE to see all of the hate being spewed towards one another. We talked about loving and the power that lies in taking the time to learn about and understand one another despite cultural, racial, religious or political differences. 

I love my dad because he's molded so much of the way I think, but that is not to believe what he believes, like the candidates he likes, or to vote the way he votes. Rather, he has taught me to practice kindness, compassion and open mindedness when it comes to individuals, even if they are different than myself. Because like baseball taught us, at the end of the day, we all seek joy and happiness in the same ways. Deeper than that, our hearts work alike, we bleed the same blood, we mourn the pain and loss of loved ones the same way, and as it turns out, we're more alike than different. 

Along with many, I will be happy to see this election over, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't unnerved thinking of what the aftermath may behold. However, I encourage all of us to take our World Series mentality into today and the days that follow and find some common ground, take some time to get to experience and understand something new, even if you think you don't "like" it and most importantly, share some happiness and love. Because despite who our future Head of State is come tonight, I bet we can become a better nation with just those few things alone. 

Mission I'mPoSSIBLE

From the jump, two common themes that I knew would play a foundational part of Justineslife were community and collaboration. Why? Because not only do I personally rely on these two things on a daily basis, but I truly believe that it is with the positive encouragement, support and accountability from our circles and our communities that we become the best I. 

It is these checks and balances that keep us positive, humble, and strong enough to push forward through our greatest obstacles to our greatest accomplishments. 

Photo credit: Hugo Ramirez

This brings me to this week's edition of #ReflectionsofGratitude. Thanks to two of my awesome sisters from other misters, Sammy and Val, I stepped out of my comfort zone this past weekend and joined the MIP Worldwide community at Jason Markk for a nice little Saturday run, (that eventually progressed into a full two days of fellowship.) 

Don't get me wrong, hanging with a bunch of dope new people for an entire weekend, right up my alley; the whole running long distance part, not so much. But on I went to support my friends...

Look, if we're talking sprints, I'm there. I'm an athlete. I can go all day. Who wants it? Allyson Felix, where you at!? Distance though? Eh, I'm cool. Always unsure of whether I'll be able to finish the run at a respectable pace, and also (being instinctively extremely competitive) in first place, I've typically shy'd away from group distance running.

But Saturday there I was, at 1 o'clock, in the heat of the summer day, my excuses locked and loaded, about to take off running across DTLA with a large group of people. Off first glance, the group clearly consisted of a few pro runners, who surely were supposed to have left for Rio already, the fitness buffs, who do this everyday like it's drinking water, the middle of the packers (like myself), who were going to get by, a few people I could definitely beat, and my buddy Javier, who after randomly crossing paths with us, was going to join in despite sporting blue jeans and carrying a book.

BOOM! We're off. Energy is high, everyone's having fun, I'm feeling good, and amazingly, no one has sprinted to the front of the pack like Superman. Just as it feels the pace is about to settle in, enter "praise break" number one. You know, the part of the race where everyone from the runners' pace to the party pace pauses together and allows the whole group to catch up while holding squats, cheering loudly and creating bridges for each other to run under. 

Photo credit: Hugo Ramirez

Photo credit: Hugo Ramirez

It was during that first praise break, of what would go on to be many, that I realized this was no race at all. This wasn't a competition. No one was supposed to win, or feel self-conscious or leave discouraged, never wanting to come again. This was a collaboration, a journey, together, designed to grow ourselves by first bettering one another. There were no egos, no levels, and no talk about who you are or what you do (which in LA we all know can be hard to come by.) We were all on the same playing field.

We laughed, we ran, we accomplished heights we were unsure we could achieve and we left no one behind. As it turns out, I didn't need all of those excuses I had packed after all. I was fully capable of completing the run, and even if at times I needed to walk, there was always going to be someone back in the party pace willing to walk with me, passing no judgement, keeping me encouraged and making sure we finished the mission.

That is what it's all about. Relying on we to create a better I, because together, there is no mission impossible, it's mission I'mPOSSIBLE. And for that, I am grateful.

For those of you unfamiliar with MIP Worldwide, it stands for Mission I'mPOSSIBLE. MIP is not just a run club, but a community built on outreach, leadership and collaboration. MIP was founded in Vegas in 2012 by Sammy Jo herself. MIP's Core Value II states that, "the RUNway is where dreams become a reality, ideas turn into action, life turns into living and tests turn into testimonies." Four years later, MIP is now an active 501c3 with ten chapters nationally. Through the help, belief and support of her community,  Sammy was able to turn dreams into a reality and ideas into action.

To learn more about MIP or how to get involved in a chapter near you, check out their website.

From Robbins, Illinois...DWYANE WADE!

Two posts in one day?! Woah, let’s not get carried away Justine. I decided to jump right into things with #ReflectionsofGratitude because it was actually this memory that inspired the idea.

Monday, thanks to Facebook memories, I was reminded that FIVE years ago I interviewed Dwyane Wade and number of others at a fundraising celebrity kickball tournament hosted by Baron Davis. While I hadn’t forgotten this memory, I could not believe it was five years ago.

Five years ago, when I was a bright-eyed, bushy tailed, 23-year-old and a relative rookie to LA. I was hustling my way through the sports journalism field, interning here, working there, and just trying to get experience wherever I could. I was young and inexperienced in a HUGE market and my own biggest critic. Often feeling like I was a hamster on a wheel, I was never sure if I’d ever be as good as [insert person x, y, and z] to be able to compete. Every time I posted a video or interview, I was terrified.

Suddenly, five years ago seems about right. That kid was young and green. If I could go back and tell young Justine some things, I’d say, Justine, at 23, you’re navigating your way in a big city. You’re getting amazing opportunities. You’re interviewing Dwyane Wade, the guy who hung on a poster in your dorm room freshman year! You’re sitting down with athletes who people dream of interviewing. And you’re only getting better. As it turns out, that reel of yours isn’t so awful after all.

I’d say, enjoy the process. You’re doing it. You’re not so bad. I’m actually proud of you! 

My, how life has changed and evolved since then. With no regrets and to my own content, about a year after this moment, I transitioned away from the journalism field to the digital side. (Although, I think I feel an itch coming back.) I continued to push forward and grow and navigate my way through this very competitive city. Five years later, I reluctantly admit that I’m an LA vet now. This city is my city. The world is at my fingertips and these experiences only equipped me for greater ones! And for that, I am grateful! I'm grateful for where the journey has taken me.

So a reminder to myself and anyone else, the journey is DOPE. The process IS the fun part. Thanks life, let’s keeping moving on up, but maybe not to the east side...I think I like the west side.

 

*If you have WAY too much time on your hands, feel free to watch the rest of the interviews from the event below, but remember, this is a judgement free zone. Haha

**Also, if you've never seen the Dwyane Wade commercial that inspired this post title, do yourself a favor and watch it here. It's one of the greatest basketball commercials ever made.

Reflections of Gratitude

You know, life has been pretty good to me. Everyday truly feels like a new adventure and with each new adventure comes a new experience, a new interaction, a new memory.

Also with each passing day, it feels like time moves a little bit faster. I finally understand why as kids, adults were constantly telling us that time flies. I wish I could take back all of those eye rolls, because as it turns out, it does.

While I don’t take these moments for granted, it seems like the more I do, the less I remember. Half the time I can’t remember what I did yesterday and that’s not an exaggeration. I blame digital overstimulation, lack of disconnection and the inability to slow down. I actually think those are proven facts, but if not, they're at least my great excuses.

Either way, while we’re recording and documenting more than ever before, I feel like I’m organically retaining less.  Sometimes it feels like the memories I do have are actually just the few bits of a story that I can piece together from a picture that I’ve saved.

An ongoing regret of mine is not keeping a journal, writing on paper the small details, the intimate moments and the feelings that certain experiences gave me so I can properly evoke these memories.

Nonetheless, every time I find myself glancing back at these tangible memories, whether scrolling through my camera roll on my iPhone, or my Instagram timeline, or glancing at Facebook memories, I find myself overwhelmingly filled with gratitude. I believe reflection creates gratitude because it takes us out of our current situation or circumstance for a moment and reminds us of where life has taken us and how much we’ve grown, overcome, developed, and persevered.

So, in the midst of trying to defeat my journal struggles, I've decided I’m going to begin regularly reflecting on these memories and where life has taken me since. Forget Throwback Thursday, welcome to #ReflectionsofGratitude. I would love for you to join in with me on social media or with your own posts!