Dear Professor Chris Butynskyi,

Your 9 AM

 Monday Wednesday Friday 

Ancient Western Civ course was the very first college class I ever attended. 

I made sure to arrive early.

Much too early. 

And came fully prepared,

 not really knowing what to expect.

I sat in the front row to set myself apart,

 and waited nervously for you to begin. 

You appeared to be very confident, 

almost arrogant, 

striding back and forth in front of us. 

You introduced yourself, 

Told us to never call you Doctor, 

and that you had absolutely no sympathy for us as students. 

You began by promising us you were going to destroy us. 

You read us your class introduction entitled "Welcome to Purgatory"

and followed with the assurance of our emotional demise. 

I believe the words were something like

"I will strip you of all positive thoughts you have about yourself, 

and reduce you down to nothing but a pile of ashes. But as the phoenix, you will then rise from the ashes and be stronger for it." 

You told us you HOPED to offend us. 

That you would challenge us in ways we had never even thought about prior to stepping foot in your class. 

That you would dispel within us the notion that education is tied to utility,

 and that "higher education" is synonymous with "employment agency."

You promised to help teach us how to live a "life of the mind."

And I was TERRIFIED. 

Initially, 

I was fearful I would be unable to meet your standards. 

This was my first college class.  

I had to prove to you but also to myself that I was capable of this. 

I was always a good student, 

and unflinchingly determined to succeed, 

but the promise to vanquish what little confidence I had evoked a deep seated fear in me. 

My stomach began to flutter and turn like Satan's wings in the innermost circle of Hell in Dante's Inferno. 

What if my insecurity kept me there?

What if like Satan in the Inferno I was desperately trying to rise from the ashes and fly, 

but couldn't?

What if I was beaten down and destroyed,

but then became so entangled by my own feelings of inadequacy that I remained entrapped in the ice of cold criticism? 

I remember turning the thought over and over in my mind. 

I have a sincere passion for learning.

It feels like the most incredible luxury to be in college. 

To have the chance to read and study so many different and amazing things I otherwise would not have the opportunity to. 

To glean wisdom from countless inspiring professors with diverse backgrounds and stories, 

not to mention perspectives and beliefs. 

To wake up and be genuinely excited about going to my classes. 

I refused to be fearful or defeated. 

The next class I came prepared and excited to see what class with you would actually be like. 

Before long your class was one of my favorites. 

I loved everything we read and was so eager to discuss the topics. 

The class period is far too short.

50 minutes to discuss some of the most remarkable minds, 

to analyze questions philosophers have been grappling with for years, 

and to completely alter our perspective on life and literature.

I leave every single one of our classes completely reaffirmed this is where I am meant to be. 

Some of the reading is hard.

The papers take me hours, 

You expect a lot out of us, 

And really make us earn an A. 

I could't possibly be more thankful for each of these things.

I have grown beyond what I could ever possibly measure through your class this year.

You've challenged my views and made me question just about everything I believe.

I've laughed, cried, and yes even bled over class discussions, readings and papers, 

desperately seeking to earn my place. 

You have corrected, rebuked, and encouraged us when appropriate, 

shown us how literature and philosophy impacted history and vice versa, 

dispelled various false ideas we've been trained to know, 

empowered us to break the cycle, 

shaped us into better writers and debaters, 

made several of us ponder converting to Catholicism and History majors,  

told us countless stories and somehow always tied it seamlessly into our readings, 

connected with us,

inspired us, 

given us a stellar summer reading list through all of your suggestions, 

and taught us how to seek after a life of the mind. 

I have been waiting my entire life to be in a class like yours. 

The feedback you've given me has meant so much more than you know. 

For the first time I really believe I could make something of myself. 

I don't know how to articulate it exactly, 

but I feel like I can hold my ground. 

Like maybe, just maybe, 

I could really do well here. 

That my unquenchable passion for learning and literature can transpire into my work and I could be genuinely proud of it. 

That I can be more than a listener, 

I could be a participant. 

I've always been incredibly fearful of mediocrity.

I want to look back 50 years from now and know that I never settled in my education. 

Even through writing this letter, 

there are still so many thing I wish I could find the words to say.

I am so incredibly thankful for all of the time, work, dedication, and energy you pour into your job.

Your passion is infectious and has inspired me in so many ways. 

I am sincerely going to miss your class.

Thank you so much for terrifying, exacting, and supporting me. 

I sincerely appreciate the standard of what you expect from us and how you help us reach it. 

Words are futile in trying to adequately express my gratitude,

But once again, 

Thank you. 

With all my love, Meg

Dear LFP Family,

There have been very few times in my life so far where I have looked back at one particular moment and felt immensely proud and confident in the decision I've made. 

I'm not really in the business of being proud of myself to be honest. 

But the day I sent in my application for LFP,

was the day I placed the first steps of the most remarkable journey into motion.

I had no idea what I was in for. 

A year before we met, 

I was terrified of you.

I was so afraid to leave my little Christian school and try to fit in with all of you.

You all seemed so much more qualified, 

So much more deserving of your place than I did. 

All of you are captains, founders, organizers.

Leaders.
Sure,
I'd met the"qualifications",
But I still felt so far from meeting the standard.

August 18, 2013
 rolled around and we all finally met for the first time.
Placed faces to names and trying desperately to remember them all.
Excited and scared,
completely unsure, 
yet ready.
In omnia paratus.
Ready for anything.

It's a good thing we were too! 
We had no idea how that first week would change, challenge, inspire, grow, and bond us. 
We learned to trust each other in ways that were foreign to most of us, 
and became close in so much less time than I even realized was possible.
Through trusting complete strangers to guide us, lift us, catch us, listen to us, work with us, unknot us, sing with us, and jump into this crazy experience together. 
Worship in the auditorium and the Great room, 
our voices unified and echoing strong, 
praising our beautiful Savior as one body, 
one family. 

I had no idea that first day how much all of you would mean to me. 
Each of you has touched my life in an irreversible and very real way.
You have shown me so much about myself.
I've grown beyond measure since being here.
God has worked tremendously through each of you

I love you dearly friends, 
Each and every one of you with every single piece of my heart.
LFP has utterly and irrevocable altered my life,
and each of you were a part of that. 
Thank you so much. 

We are a family.
And that means so much more to me than what I could ever tell you.
We will stand by each other through the storms that will inevitably come and devastate,
through the quite joyful moments spent amongst each other in comfort,
through times of chaos and complete confusion, 
through the big news, 
and the little blessings.
To keep each other from being stupid, 
and encouraging each other to sprint towards what we want,
uninhibited, 
and full speed ahead.
We are a family.
No one gets left behind, or forgotten. 

I have no special talents or gifts, 
except that I truly and genuinely care about people.
I am nothing more than a little girl who genuinely cares for, 
loves, 
and would do anything for you. 
I am so fearful I will leave this world leaving things unsaid. 
It is so important to speak whats on our hearts because you truly never know when you will be silenced evermore.

I believe in you all so much more than you know. 
Each and every one of you is such a clear EXCLAMATION of God’s majesty and glory!
I had no comprehension of how dearly I could care for a group of people.
I am tremendously blessed to have the PRIVILEGE of knowing each of you,
 and being able to say I am a part of this family.

Thank you so much.

With all my love, Meg 

Dear Lemony Snicket,

I'm sorry to tell you this blog post you are reading will be very unlike the work you've produced.

It will tell the tale of a young girl who became very fortunate through reading about the lives of the very unfortunate Baudelaire orphans.

As the Baudelaire children encountered numerous villains and schemes,

I discovered novel vocabulary and a deep passion for reading. 

As the children's despair progressed throughout the series, 

so did my ardor for literature.

In this short post alone, 

you may encounter mass amounts of admiration and gratitude,

accounts of prepubescent stubbornness,

an inspiring gym teacher, 

and a sincere love for your work.
It is my duty to express the impact you've had on my life,
but there is nothing prohibiting you from closing this window and reading something darker,
as you are more accustomed to reading that kind of thing.
---------------------------------------------------
When I was in elementary school,
I hated reading.
I associated it with school and work.
I was completely ignorant of the power it possessed.

In the fifth grade,
I was unaware that mere words could completely transport you,
they could take you far away
 from work and stress,
the burdens that weigh heavy on your heart and mind,
fighting families,
sickness,
heartbreak,
loneliness,
and even death.

The black print on those crisp uneven cream pages,
when consumed had the ability to remove me,
if only for a little,
from the worries of my little mind.

Apathy and intransigence characterized my academic scope at this age.
Clearly there were other things that took priority,
such as that cute boy who sat just two seats away,
and where the popular girls bought their jeans.
Socially,
I was craving acceptance.

My fifth grade teacher was named Mr. Morris.
He also taught gym and connected with his students in a way that most teachers are incapable of.
We respected him,
were enthralled by him,
and loved him dearly.
It was his mission to teach us the importance of developing a love for reading.
While Mr. Morris was the catalyst for change,
you,
Mr. Snicket,
Inspired the change itself.

I fell in love with your pros from the first page.
Reading your work evoked passion in me for the very first time.

I connected with the dark humor you incorporated,
and the undeniably captivating intelligence and wit.
The continued sense of mystery and intrigue.
I devoured the words as if they were essential to my very existence.
And at that point in my life,
they were.

The tales of the Baudelaire orphans completely defied the norm for children's literature.
You transformed an entire generation of children into readers.
Not only did you convert apathetic and complacent students into avid readers,
but you also taught them, inspired them and challenged them.
It was through reading your work,
I was first inspired to write.

You showed me where the world was quiet,
where I could grow,
and question.
Where curiosity and intrigue could be translated into winding words
 that dance and sway on emotions edge.
Mr. Snicket,
Through A Series of Unfortunate Events,
you gave me a priceless gift that I will forever carry with me.

Even years after reading these books,
I am still completely overwhelmed with gratitude and admiration.
Thank you so much Mr. Snicket for your contribution.
I am just one of many people whose lives you have touched and transformed.
You have inspired me to pursue a career where I can use your work to touch other students.
I hope to reference you often as a teacher one day,
and to possibly even transform students into readers through it.

Thank you again so much Mr. Snicket.

With all my love, Meg

“At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. and what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.”

― Lemony Snicket

Dear Readers,

I've decided to create this blog for two very specific reasons.

#1: It's required for my College Writing class and I'm getting graded on it. 

#2: I want to share a piece of my heart with the world....or just with you, whoever you are. 

Through this blog I will be writing a compilation of letters to people who I am unable to reach with just my voice. These may be people I have never met, or people who I interact with every single day. We all have people we are dying to say things to. For you, it may be that stupid guy in the grocery store who knocked a glass jar of marinara sauce off the shelf and left it splattered all over the floor, or your childhood best friend, someone in the media, politics, or even your own father. For me...well, I won't give away any spoilers just yet. I will tell you, all of the things I'm going to be writing about are very near and dear to my heart. So things may get a little messy. 

I'm a very extroverted person. One of the many lovely qualities of an extrovert is their need to process things out loud, or in this case, on the internet for all to read. This is a big part of why I am writing these letters. Through writing to these people and on these topics, I hope to obtain a better understanding of these things and learn from them.

God has filled my life with an innumerable amount of blessings. He's given me talents and capabilities He expects me to use for His glory. He's also given me a HUGE mouth. While this may not always be my most attractive quality, it's who I am, and I can't change it. It's just another way God can work through me, I guess. (I hope!)

So there you have it. I will be writing these letters to share a piece of my heart with you. As you follow me on this journey, I hope to help evoke some kind of passion within you. Even if it's only that you passionately disagree with me. ESPECIALLY if you passionately disagree! 

This life can only be lived in color. And PASSION is red. What is anything worth if you don't care about it? If you can't feel it? Together let's find out how to paint with this passion, and discover the rest of the colors.

With all my love, Meg