A Good Story

How does one go about measuring a year?

You know, there is lots of ways to do it. You could break it down into days spent here, or days spent there. One could even focus on a singular theme and how it worked seamlessly through everything else. Lists are good too, a simple way to capture what the days and months have brought expectedly and unexpectedly. I've perused journals and mementos that I have kept in my young 22 years and I've made all sorts of attempts to explain what an entire year has been like—all 365 days.

In the end, I always go back to what I like best, a good story.

                    

A year ago, around this time, to the day even, I made a big mistake. Celebrating 21 was wild, exciting, and fun. Looking back though, it was a little too crazy, complete with a lot less control. I quite simply had too much to drink. Far too much. But mistakes, in my opinion, are rarely occurrences from a straight path, rooted in only one influence. Yes, it was more than just having too much to drink. I was feeling the need to be loved. We all feel it and it manifests differently for everyone. After that night in Denver, I made a move and went too far with someone I barely knew. I understand that bad choices happen, but I didn't think I would ever be like that. Disillusioned, I tried to move past I simultaneously preparing for an exciting journey I had been fully anticipating for years. Ghana! Study Abroad! It had arrived.

I distinctly remember the feeling as I walked into the airport in Denver alone. I provided my check-in information a little shakily, quite overwhelmed that I was leaving the country for awhile. I journeyed up the long halls and lines, fiddling, saying my goodbyes on my phone, and just sitting in a swamp full of anxiety. Here goes nothing, I recall thinking.

This feeling continued upon arrival in London, and I suppose that feeling could be best described as a feeble attempt for your mind, soul, and body to relay and absorb the fact that big change is coming. It's your best effort to prepare when really you can't be even close to fully prepared to live 4 months in Ghana. Overjoyed, I finally saw Rachel and Taylor in the airport at Heathrow. Yes! This was really happening, and we were together.

January moved slowly into February, strangely enough. It wasn't a bad thing, it was just starting out lives in Ghana encompassed so much—from bringing toilet paper to the bathroom each time we needed to go to adjusting to an impenetrable layer of dirt at all times, things were just wildly different.

One time, it must have been late in January, our group of Americans traveled to the Cape Coast Castle in Cape Coast, appropriately located on the coast of the country. The drive was intriguing, and it was impossible to peel my eyes away from the window. When we went through the castle, and we stood in enclosed, dark, and muggy dungeon where slaves once lived awaiting their fate, I felt horrified. Trapped. I felt sick.

Ironically, it was the this trip in late January, the same trip where I touched a small crocodile and struggled to see out of my eyes as we traversed across the top of the canopies in Kakum National Park, where I knew I was exactly where I belonged. Relief and joy had overcome, and boy, I was so so glad. I was falling in love with Ghana.

As I truly began to feel comfortable, I also witnessed and experienced the incredible joy of having friends. It's simple, but when you are in a new place, with a new language to learn, a bowl of sketchiness to eat, and you are just a hot mess, it's nice to have good people by your side. My close friends in Ghana (3 from Hendrix)—Rachel, Paula, Taylor, and Amanda—well, we would just talk and chat for hours. That's it. You can learn a lot about life and people when you just sit down over a cold bottle of coke and share stories.

This crazy night, after a long trip from Kumasi, a bunch of people in our group decided to have a "Festival of Champions" in which we would dress up as weird characters and wrestle each other. It was an American holiday we told our Ghanaian onlookers, and even though we had to move our mattresses out in front of the hostel, it was a definite success. If they didn't already know, suspicions were absolutely confirmed—Americans are rather strange.

As the months of travel, school (when I felt like attending), volunteering, and life in Ghana seemed to steadily move along, I found myself facing pain in a way I had never faced before. As a volunteer in Kissemah, I was getting to know our students at Mauvio's Outreach Program pretty well. We began to be presented with issues of abuse, poverty, and rape that rocked me to the core. Soon, once I got off the tro in Kissemah to teach, I was using my 5 minute walk to glass to re-group, to brace myself, and to ask for strength. I would need every bit I could get. The love I felt (and still feel) for those kids was intensely real. I've always thrived being around young children, but this was new. These children—Rukia, Gloria, Gosway, Akos, Kwame, Margaret, Maama, to name a few—opened my eyes to a different kind of love. A maternal love, a love where I sought to protect and nurture. It's amazing what you can feel thousands of miles from home.

Home was becoming here, and yet it was time to pack and leave again. Why does time move so damn fast?

Goodbyes are immensely difficult. I learnt this plenty this year.

I tried to breathe all of it in, the kids' laughter, the distinct taste of red-red, the noise of the market, the travels of my dad and I as we so much of Ghana, all of it. I closed my eyes, and soon awoke to being back in Heathrow—alone again. I had bid adieu to my friends as we arrived in London and headed our own ways. I sat idly in the first class lounge after one last goodbye to Rachel and literally thought I would go crazy. Hot showers, gourmet food, unlimited wine—a dream in a way, a nightmare in the other. I took my stuff abruptly at one point, walking swiftly to the fancily decorated bathrooms and cried. I cried very hard while I was in that bathroom in the middle of the airport. This was just stage one of a long, weird, and challenging transition back to America.

The summer was invigorating some of the time though—I mean, I was home! I watched my brother graduate, I rode on ATVs, and I relished my summer workouts most of the time. With a big sigh of relief I was back to my old life. Wait.

Only this time, I was different, I was changed. Like a broken puzzle piece, I really wasn't fitting anymore. I would realize eventually, that not only did life keep moving while I was gone, but so did life at Hendrix too. Jumping right back into things was much more complicated than I anticipated. Still, I yearned for Hendrix the longer I was home. Come July, I had become fully immersed in my summer job as a family area intern at the Gathering Place. At one point, one hot summer Denver day, I just felt a part of the family there. I was friends with other staff members, and I was able to forge meaningful relationships with some of the kids I worked with. One family, well, they brought me an entire pan full of enchiladas as a thank you gift. Could it get any better? The team around me, 4 women of all different ages, was supportive on and off the job. When my brother was put in jail for a night, they were there when I got the call. They held me when I could not stand, and without them, I don't know how I could have sorted some of that confusion out.

As the heat continued on, I was doing what I loved every day. I played with kids who needed some extra love. I loved my job. How many people can say that?

August came. Finally.

I had a wonderfully delightful last few weeks with my parents and soon it was time to go. Mom and I packed the Prius and headed due South. I called Ali as we neared Conway city limits and I was euphoric. I don't know what it is exactly, but being at Hendrix is truly a place where I am me without any reservations, and that is very special. Also, I was just ready to see my friends after a long long time away from each other. We all had stories to share, fun to have, and new memories to make.

Unpacking my car and moving in was perfect. I couldn't have been happier. Screams, tears, and laughter were basically the norm the next few days as reunions happened everywhere. Even on the hockey field, it was just so nice to be back and with everyone again. I was grateful for this community, and happy that I had another year of it. One day, over Labor Day, we went to the Lake, had a picnic, took pictures as we pranced around like we owned the place, and layed in the sun. I like doing cute things like that.

However, the adjustment was not purely full of joy and bliss—I encountered a new batch of struggles that I wasn't sure how to handle at the time. A sadness struck that was hard to explain, only that I just felt so utterly sad, did not know why, and couldn't really confront what it meant. For someone who journals and reflects regularly, I just was miles away from being self-aware. I couldn't what I was feeling. That of course, was just it though. I had to face it. Why was I sad? Why did I feel alone? Why did I want to cry all the time?

When things picked up, I genuinely began to enjoy hockey season again. Practice was enjoyable and after starting off a little rough, the season as a whole exploded with success. With I think it was 4 or 5 straight wins, we beat the 9^th ranked team in Division II and eventually advanced further in the conference tournament than ever before. It was a very good time to be a Hendrix Warrior, and I will always remember what it looked like after I scored in the DePauw game. My hands held high I glanced at the stands and saw so many people that I loved cheering loudly on their feet. Nothing beats that. The season was magical and the feeling of accomplishment stills tastes familiar in my mouth. Ending my career with 6 other seniors was emotionally draining. I don't think even now it has fully hit me, but things like this take time. Closure, indeed.

So, season ended and I had nights of dread with studying endlessly, nights of Taco Bell runs, and nights of things like a Jersey Shore party. I had Sunday mornings too, and I won't deny that I adore Sundays at Hendrix. They come easy and I like that. The semester ended in a flash after a refreshing trip to Tulsa with Rachel's family for Thanksgiving, and I remember thinking that, "wow! Much has happened." Indeed, things are moving along in my life and my friends' lives too. Hearts were broken, post-grad plans were pursued, and Michelle was even engaged by the end of year (!!!), and planning a Southern summer wedding. I, along with my friends, was realizing that we were no longer little girls. Still, we have a good time and act young, because let's be real. Being young is just too much fun. Undeniably though, we have come a long way since being little baby freshman only a few years ago.

                    

And so, I finished 2010 much in the same way that it began—with reflection.

This time, feeling grateful, pleased, changed, and anxious for what is to come in the future. Disillusioned, I no longer am. At least not now.

To close the year, I watched football endlessly with my family, I forged a new approach to my relationship with my brother, and I even soaked up the Maui sun for a week, riding bikes down mountains, and running along the beach.

Yes, much has happened, but also, much is to come.

And, no matter what I go through in the next year, I will keep writing, because truly, it is the best way to tell a good story.

 

 

let it fill the space between.

I've been home as long as I was there.

4 months ago, I came home from 4 months full of the adventure of a lifetime.
Except, the more I'm home and away from Ghana, the more I realize that while our time there was an adventure, it was more of a journey than anything else.
I've been continuing the journey here; I've been learning how to live my life away from Ghana. As everyday ticks by and each moment passes, I try to soak all of it up, but in the same moment, I try and remember what the past year has meant for me.

My biggest fear?
I will forget.
I will forget what that hot, dusty sun felt like fresh on my skin.
I will forget the cramped and yet comforting tro ride into town.
I will forget the comfort in a long lasting sip of citrus tampico, knowing that nothing else could quite quench my thirst (except for maybe some chilled Coke!)
I will forget my friends, our jokes, and what it felt like to be an American abroad.
My worst fear is I will forget what the lives were like for the kids I taught, for the Kissemahn kids. No, I won't ever forget the smell of sewage, of the laughter of their small voices, or even some of the topics we talked about together. But, will I forget what this means for the rest of my life? Will I forget what it felt like to actually BE THERE?

What happens if time takes that all away?

4 months later and I am not the same--nor will I ever be. Maybe it's this that will help me remember.
I've gained a little perspective, have my priorities better in line, and I appreciate the life I have had so so much more.
The last month of my life, especially, has confirmed that right now, I am exactly where I need to be. I love my family, I really do, but I don't know. Life just makes sense here now. So much of me is here. Coming back to Hendrix was coming home too, and it's been critical in helping me get back to living my life in this beautiful country again.
Maybe this is what happens when you find a home in more than one place--around the world even.

Maybe that is just the point. Home is beyond the house; home is your heart feeling perfectly in place.

For the first time in 4 months, it does.

HE TERMINADO!

I haven't taken Spanish since last year but I was feelin' a little rebellious today after finally completing the semester. Especially that hellish class they call HISTORIOGRAPHY.

I am done with my classes for the fall semester of junior year.

That is a loaded statement. For one, I loved my classes (for the most part) this semester. Oh, not to mention JUNIOR year. I'm still amazed how fast time is moving. It's just so hard to fathom.

The room is ready to be loaded up. My stuff is in bags, bins, and boxes. My two suitcases are packed. Once I wash my sheets I will be set to go.

It's sad. Scary. Amazing. Exciting. Weird. All at the same time.

I think packing up a suitcase meant a lot more to me this time around—especially since I can only check two bags because I am flying. I had to really find the clothes I wanted to bring to Ghana. Pack the pictures I really wanted to take. And really just bring the stuff that means the most to me. Most of all, it just reminded me how much damn stuff I have. I want to be free of all of it.

I miss my family so very much. Landing in Denver on Sunday night, complete with freezing temperatures and snow sounds perfect. I want to lay on the couch with Buddy, go in the hot tub, hang out with Lance, and maybe even run around the neighborhood, if I feel daring enough.

Mostly, I just want a break. To just relax. Before the next big journey begins.

I am going to miss my girls. It brings tears to my eyes every time I know another goodbye is coming. Saying goodbye just never gets easier. Especially this time around. Things are different, 9 months apart sounds a lot scarier than just a quick summer.

So, here we go. Tears will fall. We will cry. But we will always be friends.

I am done with Hendrix until next Fall.

And it will all be okay. All of it.

mi familia

I have really good friends.

The kind that will go to almost every field hockey game to cheer you on, even if they have no idea what is even going on.

The kind that will take crazy pictures and videos with you, and will add them 20 minutes later on facebook.

The kind that sing at the top of their lungs right along with you, so nobody can actually realize how bad of a singer you are.

The kind that laugh at your jokes, just so you think for a moment you are some kind of funny.

The kind that will hug you, listen to you, laugh with you, all because they love you.

The kind that take the good with the bad, and love you because of exactly who you are.

The kind that want to share life with you, because they know that life is beautiful and is even more beautiful when shared with other people.

Exactly two years ago I decided to choose Hendrix College as the place to go to school and get some higher education. I knew it was a risk, but I felt so right about it, so at peace about it, that I couldn’t ignore that feeling. I knew God was taking me somewhere special, but I didn’t know it would be something like this. I didn’t know how much my life would change from Hendrix College.

I have found what makes my heart go wild, I have seen things I never thought I would see, and I have been places I never thought I would go. I am so lucky, so blessed. My life perspective has completely changed and I feel more myself than I ever felt in my entire life. At Hendrix I found a home away from home. I am happy here, and I could not have asked for more.

One of the best parts of this home?

My friends, obvi.

We have become a family. How could we not? We eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. We talk about classes together. We do homework together. We watch movies together. We have conversations for hours on end about anything and everything. We dance together. We live together. My family of girls here is something I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for. Just a few weeks ago we had a discussion about how things would have been different for us if we did have boyfriends. If we were in relationships at the beginning of college, we thought about how this would affect where we are now. Of course I want a man, but really, that will come when the time is right. The time may not be right at this current season in my life because I am exploring my life with a great group of friends. It is them that keep me sane, keeps me laughing, and makes everyday so much better than I could ever imagine.

My group of friends are in one word: quirky.

But my goodness, they are fun. Our little family is filled with exciting, interesting, brilliant, and some of the most beautiful people that I ever met.

Ali: I remember reading a field hockey article about her during the summer before freshman year. The article spoke to how talented she was in the goal, and it made me question why the heck I ever thought I could play college hockey. How could I play with someone so skilled, so talented? Needless to say, I was intimated even before we met. I remember the first week of preseason Ali and I didn’t talk much, but when she threw up due to the heat and dehydration during practice I felt a great sense of concern. I don’t know when it really happened, but over the course of the season and towards the end of first semester we started to become really good friends. I always wanted to sit by her on the bus, and we slowly got to know each other. And, once I met her mother, I was so glad we did. I think Camille is just fabulous.

Anyway, once Ali and I became roomies halfway through freshman year I knew it was legit. We always have so much fun together, and I feel so comfortable around her. I can ask her anything, do anything, say anything, because once you live with someone all those barriers come down. I rely on Ali more than I do a lot of people, because I know she always has something to say that provides a new insight or perspective that other people may not think of. She doesn’t think of the world and of life in the typical way, Ali can see an issue or situation, and approach it in a way that I would never think of. Ali is a passionate person, quite a bit more subdued than myself, but I think that works well in our relationship. I do the stupid things, Ali laughs, and we just crack each other up. Ali inspires me because she speaks her mind, and holds nothing back. She doesn’t care what people think, and I think God put that influence in my life so I could learn from her. Luckily, I have.

Ali is reminiscent to me of the blue of the ocean, not limited to one hue, but has layers and layers of colors, ranging from turquoise to a deep, enticing navy blue (hello, this will be my wedding color someday LOVE IT). Ali is a complex person, someone who doesn’t give away everything about herself at first meeting, but someone that you can learn something new about everyday. I love that, it inspires me. Ali has a big heart, and I feel so lucky to have even a little piece of that, she has changed my life and I know that she has come into my life for a reason. She is my field hockey soul sister, my roomie that somehow puts up with my quirks (yes, write a handbook, Michelle will need one!), and one of my best friends. I love you Ali.

Jordana: One word: Habitat.
Sorry, but that WAS the best OR trip. Ever.
I remember meeting Jordana on that trip, and after just one evening of a bunch of us girls gallivanting around the roads in those beautiful Arkansas “mountains” I knew we would be great friends. The first thing I remember ever thinking about her was how cool her name was. What I didn’t expect, was for such a cool girl to behind the name.
After OR trip we started hanging out, and I was so happy to meet someone like her. First of all, she laughs at stuff that I say, which is a major plus. More than that though, she has this vigor and approach to life that keeps you coming back for more. Jordana is from the city, but she doesn’t think she is better just because she is from a super duper cool place; in fact, I admire how open she has been to embracing the wonderful state of Arkansas. Deep down, I think she has a little southern girl in her, even if she never admits it. Jordana and I were immediate friends, and I have had some of my best times at Hendrix with her. Everything from Wal-Mart trips, to Jewish dinners, to walking around campus, has been infinitely more fun because of Jordana. If I need a boost, I go to Jordana because she genuinely cares about people and what they are going through. Sometimes I think Jordana should write a book. Not only is she an amazing writer, but I think she would have good stories to tell about herself, and other people. She seeks to know people, not to merely know people for the sake of it. It’s a quality about her that I love.
When I think of Jordana I can’t help but think of her personality being similar to that of a red scarf. Okay, laugh. But keep in mind that I adore scarves. They keep you warm and fuzzy, and can be made from the most elaborate material that tells a story. I don’t think of a plain red scarf of course, I think of a scarf that you would find from a vendor in the city. A scarf that has intricate gold patterns, and has been beautifully crafted—it is one of a kind, one that nobody else would have. I think of red because Jordana is bold. Not overbearingly so, but enough where she stands out (I also think she looks good in red, but that is beside the point). Red is a color of love to me, and Jordana has a lot of love to give. I never thought one of my best friends would be a New Yorker. Especially a New Yorker without an intense accent. Oh well, weirder things have happened. Love you, Jorgy.



Lauren: I met Lauren for the first time when she visited as a prospective student and field hockey player. She was quiet, actually, really quiet, but I didn’t think it was weird. I just figured she was really shy and who wouldn’t be scared on their prospective visit? I was so excited when I heard she was coming to Hendrix, not gonna lie, I definitely facebook creeped her and thought she would be a great addition as a player to the team, but also as a friend.
As it turns out, I was right. I never anticipated growing so close to Lauren but I am so glad I did. I cringe when I think back to one of our first team practices—after it was over, I rushed up to Lauren, asked if she was a Christian, and then invited her to our women’s bible study. I try so hard not to be awkward sometimes, but I guess you can’t really help who you are. And then when Lauren came over to Ali and my room after the epic Olive Garden adventure (3 bowls of pasta, yo) something was there. Little freshman Lauren was watching a movie with us, and it just seemed so natural. Needless to say, we all started hanging out together and our friendship grew quickly. I love that I can call Lauren “Lil Beast” because it makes me feel motherly. She calls me “Beast” and though it doesn’t exactly make me feel like a WOMAN if you know what I mean, I know that us having these nicknames was just the start of our relationship. The great thing about Lauren is that everything she puts on the field is exactly what she puts into life. She is determined and passionate. It has been motivating for me to have her in my life; she makes me want to work that much harder, to finish that much stronger. Lauren is like the little baby in the group. Not just because she is a freshman…I don’t know that is just how I see her.
Thinking of some engrossing metaphor for Lauren was hard. I meditated about what Lauren makes me reminisce about, and then I finally thought of Lauren as a tire swing. Yes, that sounds weird and strange but Lauren has a child-like quality about her. She is a little kid at heart, and even when she is freaking 90 years old she will still be watching power rangers with her great grandchildren. When I see a tire swing, I think of long summer nights just going back and forth on the swing, loving the sun, and embracing exactly where I was in life. Lauren does this—she clinches every day as a chance to love others, as a day to live life. Green is Lauren. She is happy, heartwarming, and has a spirit of vitality. Lauren is youthful, but despite this, still has a sense of maturity that you can see in her when you really get down to it. I have learned a lot from Lauren and I am thankful for all that she has done for me. I love you Lil Beast.


Michelle: If you’ve ever met another person where you have had an immediate connection, an indescribable connection, a connection so strong that you knew it was fate that you were to meet, then you might understand what I felt about Michelle when I first met her. She was the girl who lived next door—in the big, spacious study room no less. I recall sitting in my room feeling ready to make friends. I don’t know why, but I got up, closed my door, and started walking around. Right away, I saw her room open with a bunch of people sitting on the couch. I remember thinking I should go introduce myself. What else did I have to lose? When we discovered later that we were on the same OR trip, well, the rest is history. We were instant friends—our first night of the OR trip was spent laughing. Literally. She laughs so hard, and so loud, and it sounds like a squeal. But her laugh is like music to my ears. I can’t even describe how our friendship evolved, it kind of just did. We danced to Pussycat dolls, took weekly shower sing-alongs, and talked about life in a way that was new and refreshing.

There was one time that Michelle slept over in my room one night. We stayed up till gosh, early in the morning, just talking. We talked about everything. It was amazing, and one of my favorite conversations ever. After that, I think I began to know her on so many more levels and I began to realize what a strong yearning Michelle has to find beauty in life, and it has affected me more than she would probably ever realize. Michelle radiates love and God. She really makes the people around her happier, and has this astounding ability to just live. So much of how I have grown since the beginning of freshman year is because of her. Soul mates, I do believe, exist. I also believe Michelle is my soul mate.

Michelle makes me think of a pink flower. It wouldn’t be a big, obnoxious flower that draws attention from all of the smaller flowers. It would be the flower that is yearning for sun, growing steadily, and exuding a bright pink. It would be the flower that you would never want to pick; it would be just too beautiful. More importantly, if Michelle was a flower, it wouldn’t be just found in gardens. It would be grown in the wild, where the sky was limitless, and the fields of green were vast and boundless. I love you Michelle.

Rachel: Can I just say that the fact that Rachel was Mrs.Frizzle for Halloween this year speaks to what an awesome person she is? Yes, hella awesome right thurrr.

I met Rachel through my old roommate. We hung out a lot the first few days of our college experience. Rachel was warm and welcoming from the moment I met her, and I remember loving how red her hair was. I would soon discover though, that there was a lot more to Rachel than just her kindness and her red hair. Rachel is brilliant. She loves history, which immediately brought us together. She is also from Arkansas, something she FOR SURE needs to be proud of. Represent my friend. I think I realized we were going to be great friends once she, Michelle, and Jordana started hanging out more.

One of favorite things about Rachel is the way she plays Apples to Apples. Or rather, the way she ridiculously plots against everyone else in Apples to Apples. Ha. You can find out a lot about a person in Apples to Apples and anyone that has trump cards like festering wounds is someone special. I love that she plays goofy, it is absolutely ridiculous and hilarious. Rachel is pretty much like that outside of Apples to Apples, she embraces being eccentric, and I think it has made me even crazier. I feel perfectly fine acting insane around her, and I’ll admit that I think Rachel is just as crazy, she just hides it better. I also love who Rachel is in the very core of her being. She truly has the best of intentions, and she is kind to everyone around her. I believe she is gorgeous, stunning, and I wish she gave herself more credit. God has provided her with so much beauty, and I can’t wait to see where life takes her, and what she does with all of the gifts she has.

When I think about Rachel, I can’t help but think of the glorious Arkansas Razorback. Rachel holds so many similar qualities to the razorback…ha, just kidding. Actually, when I think of Rachel, I can’t help but think about the tips of the Rockies. The Rockies are so awe-inspiring, and so mysterious, and honestly, Rachel is mysterious too. She isn’t mysterious in a way like an Edward Cullen, but rather she doesn’t always express how she is feeling. Still, I know Rachel, like me, has a special place in her heart for the mountains. Rachel exemplifies the color of baby blue, someone who is gracious, kind, and stands out no matter where they go. I think the mountains perfectly accentuate the color of blue, especially, at the peak of the mountain, and I think Rachel is finding that peak in life. But maybe it really isn’t about getting to the peak, as much as it is about the climb. Rachel is climbing, and she is going somewhere spectacular. I love you Rachie Poo.

a puddle of thoughts

Michelle splashed in puddles today.
She wrote some poetry about it, and conversly, was reminded of this piece that I wrote.

I wrote this one year ago. Literally, to the day. Hello, that is freaking cool. Ironic. And a reminder of how much can really happen in a year.

It was the first "blog" I ever did. : )

I woke up this morning to the sound of pattering on the window. It didn't occur to me that it could be raining outside, but as I glanced out the window I quickly realized that I would be wearing my black and white polka dotted rain boots today. I threw on my winter jacket that always reminds me of the slopes at Copper Mountain, and walked to the cafeteria so I could make my infamous egg creation (ahem, for those unaware, this consists of a couple scoops of scrambled eggs, salsa, green peppers, tomatoes, and cheese.) Yes, I take my food seriously.

As I walked to the cafeteria and encountered a multitude of puddles I couldn't help to reminisce when I was little. My grandma would pick me up every Wednesday from Ponderosa Elementary School. She would wait for Lance and I, and once we got settled at her house we took our weekly trip to the frozen yogurt shop. She would always encourage us to get something healthy, but being Grandma she never said anything when I got the item with the most chocolate. We would go to the Hampden Library and check out books..and movies...and have a movie marathon that night. My, how time goes. We don't have sleepovers anymore. My grandma has lost her ability to walk and cannot even function independently on her own anymore. Luckily for us, God has blessed her with a strong heart. She doesn't give up, and I can only hope to get that from her one day. Anyway, that was a tanget. The puddles I walked through today on the way to breakfast reminded me of one particular instance when she picked me up. I must have been in 2nd grade or something, and it had rained quite a bit one afternoon. As I was walking towards her welcoming and gentle arms I came upon a huge puddle. Unlike many of the other kids who were splashing and crazily jumping in all of the puddles, I stopped. I looked for an alternative path and chose to walk around the puddle refusing to get wet. My grandma embraced me into a hug that I will always treasure. She looked at me with her deep blue eyes and told me, "Heather, honey, you are so cute. You aren't like the other kids who are jumping around. You went around the puddle. Just wait till you are older when you won't want to stop jumping in puddles." I had no idea what she meant by that. I thought she was crazy..why would I ever want to get messy and wet in a puddle of rain?

10 years later I get it. I mean, at least metaphorically it makes sense. Jumping around in puddles is about more than just getting wet. To me jumping in a puddle means taking a chance. It means taking risks, trying new things, and being a little crazy. My grandma predicted it right on target. As I am on my journey here at good ole Hendrix College I had a realization this morning. I love jumping in puddles. I love being crazy. I love growing in my experiences and in my relationship with God.

Ever since I have been at Hendrix you could say I have been jumping in puddles since I got here. I got involved in field hockey at the college level, am involved with things I never could have imagined, and have seen things that I would never have thought of before. I can't really describe it. It's not a physical change that I am going through. I would say my journey has been greatly spiritual, emotional, and quite frankly, soulful. I don't feel like the same person anymore. I don't walk around the puddle--I don't try for perfection all the time, and I am enjoying the journey more now. I have realized that the JOURNEY is what really matters. Because in the end, we choose who we are. Before I was so wrapped up in not messing up, I never wanted to make any mistakes. But now...I don't know. I feel so loved by Him. I feel His presence everywhere and know that it doesn't matter if I make a mistake. My Maker is with me always; He loves me for who I am and not what I do or do not do. Hendrix has opened my eyes. To other people, to the world, to diverse viewpoints, to LIFE. God has had this whole plan for me. To think about it is so overwhelming..

Michelle made a great point when we were talking last night. We talked about what it took for us to both end up at Hendrix, living next door to each other on 3rd floor Veasey no less. God planned for us at every moment--from Michelle going to the college fair and discovering Hendrix, to me finally deciding to come play hockey at Hendrix and take a chance on Arkansas. Everything happens for a reason. THERE ARE NO COINCEDENCES. I think that has truly become apparent over the past few months. It has been so hard being away from home. So hard. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss my dog. I miss those freaking mountains! But..going to Hendrix was a lot like jumping in the puddle. I could have taken an easier route and stayed in CO. I could have done that. I would probably still be happy. But I came to Arkansas. I jumped in that puddle and I could not be happier. Goes to show that Grandma's always know what they are talking about. Always.

In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord determines his steps. Proverbs 16:9 NIV

Warrior

Our hug lasted longer than what I could comprehend in time. As I looked into her eyes, I smiled and gave her a reassuring glance. Tears kept falling from her eyes. The sobbing started to make her body shake and again I took her hand and gave her another warm hug. As I took a few steps back into Marshie, my small, old, white car, I looked at her one more time. She took her suitcase and slowly entered the airport. My mom was leaving me at college again. It seemed harder for her. Like she was scared. And then she sent me at text a mere 5 minutes later. "I miss you already! Good luck with everything and I love you so much!!" I then smiled and continued to drive faster to Conway. As hard as it was to say goodbye to home, to friends, to family, I held the tears back almost everytime. Not just because I was excited for school to start again. But because I know Hendrix is exactly where I belong right now. God wants me here. I can't doubt that.

I have been back at this beautiful place for almost a week! What a whirlwind week it has been. It has been filled with unloading musty trash bags from storage, from numerous trips to Target, and with lots of reunions with more and more to come. Ali and my room is pretty much all put together. Already I am calling it home. It just feels so right. Field hockey has pretty much been my life since I have been here. Hours and hours of practice have filled my days but for the first time in a long time I am confident with not just the team, but with myself. I have a knack for putting an unneccesary amount of pressure on myself to perform. I have been praying about it and I think that each practice I am learning more and more what playing on a team really means and what being a team leader takes. I can't really describe it, but in the past week I have learnt more about my role on the team than ever before. It's been an overwhelming and largely enjoyable experience so far.

Being on a team is strange and exilarahting because never again is it quite the same. You always have different people, different situations, and different dynamics. I think in a way I have always taken the best parts of all of the teams I have been on and have tried to find them in teams that I am on later in life. My dad used to be my soccer coach for a couple years and those bring back some of my favorite memories of being on a team. From our dairy queen team banquets, to being the "little bulldog" I savor some of those times. And then of course, I can never forget about Grandview field hockey. I was talking about high school hockey with some old buddies this summer and we came to the conclusion that playing field hockey was one of the best experiences we had in high school. I met some of my best friends on the field hockey team, I discovered something I am very passionate about, and I quite honestly had the chance to grow as a person. Playing hockey for Grandview provided a way for me to learn more about myself and to discover my passions in life. I came to see how much I love people and how much I love interacting. To this day I believe that field hockey was what brought me out of my shell. It took me from that quiet, shy, unsure girl into the loud, crazy, confident woman I have become. And then as it always goes, teams come and go. My time at Grandview came to an end, and I thought my time on field hockey teams was over. I didn't think there would be another chance for me to play hockey.

And then Hendrix came along.

Oh, Hendrix. After taking a chance on the small, weird school, in the middle of Arkansas I am now playing on a team that I am incredibly proud to be apart of. Last year, our first year, was tough. Tougher than I might have even let on. I tried to be the best leader I could be, but in lots of ways I know I could have done better. Our team struggled on the field. Everyone saw that. But we struggled off the field as well. Yet, in the past week I can feel that things have changed. That Hendrix field hockey has come over that hurdle and we are growing into something bigger, something better. Again, I am not expecting to find the same experiences and same emotions as I did in high school. I can't do that. I will be let down if I do. On the flip side, I know I can find something more. Something bigger than I can even imagine. God has something in store. He always does. I am not going to desperatley try and find it. I am going to soak this all in. I am going to soak EVERYTHING in. I am going to let every practice, every moment, every bus ride, every game, every play count for something. I am going to work as hard as I can, give everything I got, because God gave me this chance to play the sport I love. Not everyone gets to always do that..I am so blessed. I am excited to see where this season goes. I am excited for Hendrix field hockey, Hendrix College, and for sophomore year. I won't be forgetting to praise Him as every moment unfolds. How could I? This is all God's glory. The beautiful friends I have that have already taught me so much, the opportunities at my fingertips, and the joy of being alive. This is all just a tiny piece of His extraordinary plan. Glory.

Embracing the human spirit

The world in which we are born is just one model of reality. Other cultures are
not failed attempts at being you. They are unique manifestations of the human
spirit.

This is a quote that is sitting in my supervisor's office at The Gathering Place. I fell in love with it the minute I read it. Partly because I think it says so much in so few words. And also partly because I am experiencing this to a certain degree. No, I am not experiencing other cultures in the sense I am immersed in somewhere half way around the world, but I am building relationships with women and children who do have a different model of reality. Their idea of reality does not take origin in the cookie cutter houses of suburbia, the overflow of money to buy nice cars, or expensive vacations every year to exotic locations. Oh no. Quite the contrary. The people that I have met at The Gathering Place each experience their own culture. It could be the beautiful, elderly grandmother raising her her grandchildren because they have nowhere else to turn, it could be the young girl who calls living in a cramped, hot room at a shelter home, and it could be the woman roaming the streets not only searching for sustenance to surivive..but of her own self-existence. Many of the women and children have a deeper dilemma than their inability to afford rent or food; they have no idea who they are. They are searching for their human spirit. Something they can relish in. Something they can nurture and watch grow. It is a unique experience to watch along side as they grow. I have found myself biting my tongue right before I give my 2 cents. Right before I, a 19 year old who is the LAST person to offer advice, suggest what these women should do to take their next step. I have quickly stopped myself knowing that I would be totally out of line. This is their journey..I am only their to offer my love and support. I am not there to dictate on others should live.

Unique manifestations of the human spirit. Hmm. Makes you think right? As I have spent the last 3 months with children and women and watching them grow, my heart has been transformed. It has been such a God thing to have these children in my life. 2 weeks ago it happened (again). A little girl, Betty, stole my heart. Her smile is quite possibly the most beautiful smile I have ever seen and her heart..oh my. I can SEE God in her. I CAN FEEL IT. Over the last few days we have spent together we have played games, read books, and I have been trying to teach her how to read numbers. To watch her engage in such learning has been overwhelming. She exerts this spirit that is undescribable. Let me reiterate this. SHE IS 5. And the way she looks at me, the way she laughs, and the way she talks is unmistakable. She has the Spirit inside of her. I can' really even describe it in words. I connected with her in a way that I have never connected with anyone else. And she is 5. Kids say the darndest things ;)

This summer is coming to an end rather quickly. I, as usual, am a bundle of mixed emotions. How excited am I to go back to glorious Hendrix College?!?! I am stoked. Yet, there will never be summer like this again. That is soo obvious..but think about it. Michelle said it perfectly the other day. There are seasons of change to everything, and the status of many of my relationships will not be the same in a year from now. I am fine with this. Really. But next summer..most of my friends in CO will be..grown up. At least in the sense that they will haev their own apartments and all that jazz. Maybe even I can do some growing up! Tehee. How can I even put this summer into words? Amazing? Awesome? Nope. Doesn't do it justice. I couldn't even imagine this summer without my friends, my experiences, and my family.

Audra. This girl unquestionably is my partner in crime, my best friend, my rock. She knows what I am going to say before the words are even out, she laughs at my jokes, and she puts up with me in public. We have been through a lot. Yet, we are stronger than ever. Her passions inspire me. Her heart makes me look inward and see whats inside. She has such a presence in my mind and my life that her tagging along to family functions is fully expected. She thinks with her heart but also has a very innate sense of logic. She will go on adventures with, sing with me, veg out with me, eat with me..anything. She is there. I love her and admire her to the nth degree.

Hardy. Jessica and I are completely in sync. She gets me. I get her. She has a passionate yet easy going attitude with life. She lives every moment for that moment. She is one of those people that is truly ALIVE. The muck does not wear her down; she finds God's grace in everything. It's amazing. She is also hysterical and I think if I actually ate somewhat healthy and had abs..she would be the reason why. Our times coaching together will be cherished by me because it was THAT fun. I know our friendship has just begun to blossom.

The family. Adjusting to being back home was a journey. Quite the climb up a mountain, if you will. Yet it was WELL worth it. My mom and I have a deeply rooted trust and understanding. At the core, we are very similar. Steamboat Springs brought us closer together and as we finished our 10 mile hike, I couldn't have been prouder of her. My dad and I are quite the opposite. What do we have in common? We are both weird. And that keeps us laughing. My time in Mexico with Lance and my dad created a lifetime of memories for us. I am so blessed to have that. Lance. What else can I say? He above anyone puts up with me. Good and bad. He encourages me to get through anything. He makes fun of me..but at the end of the day I could make fun of him for the exact same things. He is more sensitive than anyone would ever guess and I love him dearly.

Yet, as I temporarily say goodbye again to my beloved Colorado I can once again say hello to ARKANSAS. I can get excited as I feel that 110 degree heat hitting my face on the field hockey field, I can officially embrace being a G-WAY girl for the first time (VZ was SO last year, duh), I can work on catching a southern accent, and best of all? I GET TO SEE MY FRIENDS AGAIN!!! My darling Michelle, Rachel, Ali, Jorgy, Ruanda, Lexy, Katie, the hockey team, and everyone else. Finally. I can't wait to cause mayhem again. I really don't care that I will be a sophomore in college. It's Hendrix College. Hello? Being weird is not only perfectly acceptable but totally expected. Teehee. I have missed them more than they will know. What does God have in store for me this year? Ha. Couldn't tell you. But I sure can't wait to find out. I will be a busy little bee with school, work, hockey, being a EPA, VAC, Stumo, and all my other activities but that is just fine. In between the rebellious activities with Michelle (music videos in mills anyone?) and school and everything else I can continue to grow in my walk with God. I can continue to build on that love and make it stronger. Ohhh baby!

Life, as I know it, is only getting better with each day.