Do What You Love

I came home from college (for the last time) 2 odd months or so ago.

In some ways it has felt like forever ago. In other ways, it has felt like I just got here. Most days though, it feels like I've been here at home forever.

It's not to say that's necessarily a bad thing; rather, I've just become so accustomed to the 8-4 (or sometimes 8-8) workdays that the days of late night studying in the carrels, watching random episodes of Friends in the HAM living room, and eating macncheese and chicken fingers for Friday lunch is so far removed from where I am right now. I miss those things a lot. Maybe even the studying? I really really do. Which is probably why adjusting to being back here albeit burritos all of the days and family all the time has still been a difficult season for me.

Of course, there have been lovely things about being here.
I have rather enjoyed eating my family's cooking. I have relished in going to Chipolte on the whim of a burrito craving, and there is something nice about having mountains back in the skyline again. And as always, it's been nice to be back with my crazy/weird/fun family again. Just when I think I have them all figured out....I definitely don't. It's fun.

I haven't been writing about this much lately, but I think as much as I love being around my family again, it's harder than ever before because I have felt much more closed off than I usually am. I'm not exactly someone who holds back; quite the opposite, much of the time I like putting myself out there and just going with it. But after graduation, I have found myself internally reflecting upon experiences, processing and digesting if you will, and I have let this kind of inner reflection stop me from really divulging a lot to my parents, but more so, my friends here too. I feel guarded. I just have these moments where I don’t feel as carefree as I enjoy being….and that’s hard.

So, I’m trying to get back to that in my life here. Of course, now it’s nearing the end of summer, but there is always a little time to be spontaneous and just dive into things with a little bit of light-heartedness. I hiked a mountain in the foothills just last weekend, to a place I have never been before. I know my parents really didn’t appreciate the whole I’m-going-hiking-alone-thanks-love-you-bye, but when I arrived home safely, they seemed to shrug it off. I ate dinner alone at a restaurant one weekend, which was, interesting for sure. More than just sparking some long lost sense of independence, it’s not like I’m trying to do things alone, I’m just doing things that add a little bit of spark into me again. I embrace (and always have) the feeling of waking up in the mornings and being excited. For whatever reason, that’s been a little missing, but I know I can get it back. I quit my second job realizing that all it was doing was adding extra baggage to my already full work schedule. I was tempted to just working the rest of the summer one time last week; but I sucked it up, ignored my people pleasing tendencies and politely confirmed that I would, in fact, be leaving next week.

I suppose the culmination of this desire to find spontaneity in my life can best be revealed in my upcoming three week trek over on the other side of the country. Even before that, Michelle is coming to Colorado and we are going to spend the weekend at my uncle’s cabin. It will be superb. I know it. Following her much anticipated visit, I will have to pack and hurry as I’m leaving that Friday for Little Rock—en route to Disney World with Rachel!!! I couldn’t be more excited. It’s just going to be exactly what we both need after a summer full of work, work, and more work. We will Disney-it-up, have a blast, and then move Rachel into her apartment in Murfreesboro, TN. No big deal, right? Then, it’s Michelle’s big day in Moscow, TN, and I will say some joyous hellos/difficult goodbyes before heading back to Hendrix for a week to visit and see the field hockey home opener.

I think it’s fair to say, that’s some major spontaneity.

But there’s a lesson in all of this, I think. There always is. It’s easy to be spontaneous when planning things on a whim; things that take you away and remove yourself from the daily grind of a working summer. It’s much harder with a work schedule when all you want to do is come home and rest after a long work day, which, a) is totally fine (welcome, even!) and b) usually quite necessary. Yet, I’ve realized that for me personally to be happy and content and to just enjoy the day, even it is just work, there has to be passion in my life—passion for a certain hobby or activity or idea or something I am learning about or even just passion to be around the people you love. This is essential to getting through times where you feel down, drained, and ready to throw in the towel. You just have to find what you like to do. It’s an old mantra I’m sure that Oprah has reiterated on her show countless times and an old adage that elderly men and women might confirm throughout their old age, but no matter what, it’s a timeless lesson with a lot of timeless value.
Confession.
Michelle told me just a couple weeks ago while we were on the phone that I had a future in being a life coach. Humbling and hilarious, I couldn’t help but smile and ponder the idea whimsically. Though I think I’m going to stick with the whole I-love-kids-let’s-inspire-them-to-reach-their-full-potential thing, this too, is a small macro example of being a life coach, right? So, maybe she was right all along. I am getting a clearer picture of what might be coming up next in my life. Whether it be evoking strong values and lessons to do my best and imitate what we call a “life coach” or you find me hanging out on the playgrounds with kids or you find me in an office doing clerical work or you just find me in a community somewhere in Africa, I hope that no matter what, I’m enjoying different aspects of my life. I’m exploring a variety of opportunities in life, and I am also relying on a sense of passion that has carried me this far. If I’m doing all these things, wherever I am, wherever my home may be, I am confident that I will be happy.

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.

 

 

free falling

I went snorkeling for the last time this morning. Audrey and Jeffrey were busy catching waves; Dad and Gretchen were soaking up precious time on the beach, so Lance and I put on our gear and ventured out in the ocean.

The powerful waves naturally take swimmers near Black Rock—where all the beautiful coral and swarms of marine life are located—so I just let the water do its thing. Next thing I know, I was alone, brushing up against the high tide. For once, my mask wasn't filling with water and I was free to explore. If it is high tide it usually isn't the best time to snorkel, but I just had a feeling that I might see some cool fishies.

I managed to maneuver myself past the murky water, full of the unknown, and made my way closer to shore. In the process of doing so, I ran right into hundreds of fishes. Hundreds! Swimming all around me, I laughed, forgetting that sea water would fill my mouth and nose. I come up quickly for fresh air, fixed my mask, and went back under. I was captivated. Orange, brown, green, yellow. What were all these fish doing? Where were they going?

Later, as I was reflecting upon my adventures in the water, I thought of Tom Petty's "Free Falling." He sings the he is going to leave this world for awhile, and I think I finally get what that means. It's finding relaxation, peace, and a sense of release from everything that brings us down. That's what snorkeling felt like this morning. Freeing.

At the beginning of this trip, I didn't know if I would find this sense of release. I really just wasn't sure. Tension was abounding every which way. News of Lance due to be a father was weighing us all down. And, just on one of the first nights we had in Maui, Lance and I talked intimately about his depression and it scared me. I saw glimpses of a brother I did not know. Even Gretchen and Dad were expressing issues in their marriage that I didn't know existed.

One night, I went on the beach alone and just cried. I said aloud things like, "Why is this happening?" or "I just can't do this." I think I was talking to God, but I really don't know. I couldn't understand how a place like Maui—a place of astounding beauty—could be bringing so many issues to front—wasn't this supposed to be vacation? I was so sick of dealing with everything. I had hoped vacation would be a BREAK from the emotional stress of the past few months, and yet, here I was thinking I would need a vacation from this vacation.

Mom called early on in the trip and I had to pretend everything was fine. I'm a terrible liar, and somehow she believed me.

However, as quickly as the emotional turmoil came, it seemed to leave just as quickly.

The rest of the trip—the past 4 or 5 days—have been just about perfect.

I realized things were going to be okay as I rode a bike down a mountain (a volcano, really) a couple days after we arrived. I was riding behind our leader and careful to follow his movements; we glided through the road at speeds topping 20 or 25 mph. At one point, I looked around and could not believe where I was. I was about 8,000 ft above sea level and yet I could see the turquoise and navy blue waters perfectly. I could see the neighboring islands, I could see green lush everywhere I looked, and the sun was peaking at just the right point. I was happy and confident things would (and will) work themselves out.

Upon return from our bike ride, Audrey and I played in the ocean for hours. We body boarded, letting the sand penetrate every inch of our bodies, and just had fun. Yes, things would be just fine.

Our last full night in Maui, our family, including the Deckers (Gretchen's sisters family)—sunkissed and content—had dinner as we watched traditional Hawaiian dancing. We took some pictures, laughed, and enjoyed an overly expensive subpar meal.

Dad and Gretchen have begun to work through their issues.

Lance seems happier than he has been in some time. Despite my own questions, I will continue to believe that he is turning his life around. We recently found out that he will in fact, no be a father. It's a complicated situation, but I won't deny that we have discovered new heights of relief.

Audrey is maturing and expressing her feelings more openly to me than before and it's such a nice change. I like having a little sister and though we have never been extremely close, I see things changing for the better in our relationship.

So, after a week of beaching it in Hawaii, soaking up the sun in December, and wearing a bathing suit at all times, where do I stand?

Well, I'm tanner. Should add a little spice to Christmas photos!

But really, I think I'm more fully aware now more than ever that I can only control myself. I cannot fix my family problems. I never have been able to, and I never will. It's been a hard lesson, something I have struggled with for a long time, but it's a much needed one. I am letting it be, or at least I will try to. It's far too draining to make everything better myself, I don't need to. I don't have to.

My dad gave me my birthday present early. After dinner one night, he took me to the Pearl Factory. He let me pick an oyster to open and find a pearl. As the woman cracked it open, the oyster revealed a beautiful pink tinted pearl. I picked a Maile leaf design for the ring. As I put my pearl ring on my finger, the woman told us the ring design is symbolic and based on a leaf that only grows in Hawaii. The leaf represents love, honor, and respect, and is given to someone who has achieved something special. I was humbled, appreciative, and so happy that this was my gift from my dad. I figure as long as I long as I live my life with those three virtues in mind, then great and beautiful things will continue to happen.

I am sad to bid farewell to the ocean and the stunning island of Maui, but I'm fulfilled from the experience and ready for the next adventure.

I'm ready to return to the world for awhile.

oh beautiful for spacious skies.

American Honey

Amurrrrrrica.

I've been back for a month.

I've been feeling, experiencing, seeing, and questioning a lot.

These are figments and pieces of my thoughts, emotions, and feelings as I have adjusted to America again.
They all come from my cute, gold, flowery journal.

Peace and love.

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It just took over 72 hours for it all to really start sinking in. I can’t really pinpoint what triggered it, but I was at the gym doing crunches, and then BAM! Someday by Rob Thomas came on my IPOD and I glanced around and saw white, and I thought of Rukia. Closing my eyes, it was like I was in Ghana again, back in another world. The tears came fast; I headed to the bathroom to be alone. I was supposed to stay for Pilates, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted to explore; I didn’t want to be trapped. Maybe I was afraid of being alone with my thoughts. Whatever it was, I left. I got in my car and headed home. Soon, I was on my bike. I wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, but I found myself at the soccer complex near my house, just off of Arapahoe Road. The fields are green and lush, reminiscent of the soccer fields I played on just a few hundred feet away, just a few years ago. Now, where I once adorned shin guards and blue and white for Colorado Storm Soccer club, stands Target, Best Buy, Dick’s, and Sunflower Market. Hello, infrastructure. As I bike over a creaky wooden path and park my bike against the old brown bark of a tree, I just stare. Immaculate and well groomed fields are everywhere, as kids of all ages are learning the game of soccer. Coaches, players, parents, everywhere. Will everything always go back to Ghana? Because my mind reminded me of how almost one week ago, I too was playing football, in Ghana, mind you. I played in Kissemahn park, on rock filled dirt, with stones marking the goals. I played with Godwin, with Daniel, with Forgive. My friends. My children. Football rules. Period. Grass or not, they will play. One game, two different experiences, two worlds.

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Relatively speaking, I’ve suffered little in my 21 years of life. I’ve grown up comfortably, I successfully graduated high school, and I’ve found great opportunities at Hendrix College. I’ve always had a roof, a family, a support system. I’ve fallen in love with God. And, I have friends that are unquestionably my soul mates. They get me. I’ve had struggles in my life, no question. Life is hard. But SUFFERING. What does that mean to me? I have been a witness to suffering: The Gathering Place, Pascagoula, New Orleans, Vietnam, Birmingham, Conway, Kissemahn. Suffering is everywhere. I have seen pain and true brokenness. And, I have also seen some that have nothing and possess everything. I pray I have the heart to feel, eyes to see, and to find solidarity from the suffering in this world.

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Summer always has a certain smell, feel, and vibe to it. I think a lot of that is a true sense of FREEDOM. Less responsibility, more time in the sun, and lazy afternoons. Or was that what summer WAS? Summer was always about the pool, friends, family, and relaxation. I’m struggling to find any of the above. Other things are looming, and adjusting into the fanciful expectations of summer after months and months in Ghana is challenging. I’m not alone, I know that, but sometimes even with all the love and my family around me, it’s been hard not to feel that way.

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Walmart.

Why?

Out. Of. Control.

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Back in Colorado for the summer. Only this time, this transitioning period is new. Unmarked territory—full of tension. Tension, not in the wow, I feel uptight and uncomfortable sense, but rather in the I’m a crossroad, becoming sense. I’m coming off a whirlwind experience in Ghana. In a couple months I will head off to my senior year in college. I’m a woman. Don’t be fooled, I am not afraid to jump in and make sand castles with the kids, or even take part in an occasional puppet show. It’s just, I’ve grown up too. So, fitting here has been hard.

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Amidst the excitement and joy of our family as we took pictures outside the Ritchie Center in Denver, I glanced over and saw a woman in beautiful African garb. Complete with the headdress. I got so excited, I tugged at my grandma, wanting her to see the beauty of Ghanaian fashion. She smiled and seemed excited too. More and more, I am wishing I made my diva dress into a Ghanaian women’s outfit. I just don’t think I could ever be that fabulous. I mean REALLY. It was nice to see the vibrant colors, styles, and designs again. So beautiful.

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I’ve been sad, anxious, and confused. Unsure of where God is leading me next. Yet, fully aware of the passion inside of me. There is so much ahead. It’s insane, really. There’s also so much here.

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As I was asking God for peace in my heart, I realized that even if I don’t fit, it doesn’t mean I don’t belong. This is home. It always will be. So, as I deal with this tension I can find grace in knowing I am here for a reason. I am home. And it might just be as sweet as American honey. Like the wise and poetic Lady Antebellum says.

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I talked with a Liberian woman, Ida, who has been a favorite at the Gathering Place for years today. Her accent, her dress, she was a give away. I knew she had that West African woman spirit, seriously. The minute she mentioned plantains, I had to approach her. We had an instant connection, and for me, an instant admiration. A Liberian refugee, bringing her children her to America and making a life for her family here, I was truly humbled. I asked her how in the world she adjusted to this crazy American life. She scoffed, laughed, and simply said, “I didn’t really have a choice. You do what you have to do, and you just keep on loving God.” Two days later, she brought me and the rest of the family area staff fried plantains and a Liberian stew. West African women might just be some of the strongest, most intense, passionate, and kind people you will ever meet.

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God never ceases to amaze me. On the same day that I got to talk on the phone with the children of Kissemahn, I got to spend all day with 4 children at the Gathering Place who I developed close relationships with two years ago. I finally got to see them again—Betty, Jesus, Janet, and Lizzy. Needless to say, the blessings and beauty of this world come unexpectedly sometimes. That’s the best part, isn’t it? I forgot how much I loved being called Auntie Heather, and I forgot how great it was to hear prayers in Spanish. Life is beautiful.

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Maybe if all of America knew about Ghana time, life would be felt a little more. Are people that rush around, barely looking away from their closed tunnel vision, numb to what is going on around them? Why don’t people say hi to each other more? Why don’t we just STOP and just enjoy? Hospitality goes a long way. I know this. I know this, because the other day, as I got into my car, absorbing all of the thoughts racing through my mind, a man in a wheelchair waved. I felt loved. I felt the way it felt when people spewed out “Akwaaba!” and “How are youuuu?” in the markets of Accra, or even walking towards Blessed Bless to get an egg sandwhich. Yes, hospitality is a gift, and something I hope offer more to the people around me. My family, my friends, and complete strangers. It might just slowly help the world become a better place.

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I feel like I am trying to vicariously live my Ghanaian life through the Black Stars during the World Cup. When the camera crew shows the flag, and Ghanaian football enthusiasts I get teary eyed. Do I need counseling? No, not really, but it's funny that I feel much more strongly about rooting for a team that I lived in that nation for over 4 months, versus my OWN nation, in which I have lived for well over 20 years. Ghana makes you do funny things.

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It’s Father’s Day. I feel even more grateful and blessed with a wonderful father than ever before. My dad is a silly man, most people would tell you that, but they would also say that he seeks to understand me than a lot of other people. We are close, not because he knows the intricate details of my life, but because he has a deeper understanding of what makes me happy. My dad came to Ghana for me. It was the most wonderful act of love he could have done, and now, he understands, more than anyone, how weird, strange, and hard it is to live back in America. That makes things easier. Even in just that week and half in the land of the Black Stars, he caught a glimpse of Ghana, and what it’s like to live in a completely different part of the world. He gets it. Sometimes I just need a hug when things feel overwhelming here. And he knows that. So, I’m extra thankful today. I also have a wonderfully supportive stepdad in Randy, and a wonderful Grandpa too. How did I get so lucky? The men in my life are strong, compassionate, and loyal. They have the things that I hope to find one day in a man, and I think that’s a pretty cool thing.

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Dear Lance

I hate that you don't see what I see.

I find myself frustrated that you believe so much in others and can't even believe in yourself.

You're in a rough place right now—trying to bounce back from your seizure and trying to battle depression at the same time.

I wish you could see what we would do for you.

I would do anything—as would everyone in our family—because we love you.

I don't understand it, and I'll be the first to admit that.

But I do understand this—you will do (and have done) great things.

You words hurt sometimes. They sting like hot coffee in my mouth early in the morning. And yet, they are just words.

You can do better and so can I. We all can. We all will.

You inspire me. You are capable of overcoming anything. This time will be no different.

I love you.

the week nothing went right, and still everything was alright.

Last week was that week where on Monday everything that could go wrong does.

A lot of that was little things.

The little things on Monday morning that leave you frusturated, annoyed, and wanting to go back to bed.
It didn't get any better when I got the news about Lance.
No, it got worse.

Again, I found myself lost, dazed, and hurting. How could I possibly be a supportive sister to my baby brother when I am 1000 miles away? How can I give him a hug? A kiss on the head to reassure him that everything will be alright?

A lot of things went wrong the first few days of last week.
Some, I don't even remember. Mostly because I was consumed by the struggle of my family, hoping that Lance could find some sense of peace.

There certainly wasn't any vindication when I got the email.
It didn't change the hard times that are ahead for Lance, or remove the stresses of school, the aches from field hockey, or the anxiety about all the other things going on in my head.
But I won't lie.
The email did bring a sense of relief, like a river smoothing the hard corners of rocks, I was met with a sense of ease.
I got into Ghana.

Heather, congratulations on your placement at the University of Ghana.

Was this really happening?
Was what I have been talking about for over a year becoming an actuality?

There are adventures ahead. Adventures that will challenge me, awaken me, and help me find me.

I called my parents the minute I found out. I was a bit nervous. After the week they had in trying to help my brother I wasn't sure if this was exactly a convenient time.

I sometimes feel like I'm the daughter that has removed herself from the family, chasing after her dreams, at the expense of her family. Like, I'm that daughter.

This all washed away the second I heard my parent's reactions. Instead of focusing on what will be a financial difficulty, on Lance's issues, and the everyday stresses they have, they were just so happy. Ma practically screamed, and daddy choked up. He would never admit it, but when I heard his voice get a little lower, and a bit on the shaky side, I knew he was emotionally right there with me. More than getting into Ghana, this was what I was hoping for. My parents are behind me. Even with everything else going on at home, they are ready to help me go to Africa.

Not to mention the emotional outcry in the cafeteria when I told my friends the news. I can't say I have ever seen such a beautiful and supportive scene among friends in the cafeteria. That was most excellent.

So, here I am checking off the list of things to do. Health Insurance. Plane ticket. Visa. Shots. It goes on and on.

But, before I get ahead of myself, I am consciously working to not only enjoy the rest of this semester, but to also prepare to sacrifice for my family.

This is a bit of a sacrifice for my family. Not just financially, but emotionally. Like my daddy said, his little girl is going to Africa and it's unbelievable, incredible, and scary. All at the same time.

I don't know what to do for my brother right now. I don't know what I can give him, what I can tell him. But I will be waiting. I will wait by the phone, because if he calls I will answer. If he needs to talk, I will talk. I will sacrifice for him, for my family, because my family is doing the same for me. And that's what families are for.

It was the week that I didn't think would get any better. It was the week that was a rollercoaster, and I was riding in the front seat, holding on to dear life for what could happen next. I didn't know Ghana was the next bump in the ride, but I am glad. It was still a tough week. But I guess that's why we have days and nights, and then new weeks come. It gets better, you get stronger, and you learn from those bad weeks. You need the bad weeks for the good weeks, and I know there are more of both to come.

I think I'm ready.

the wild wild west

Aurora, Colorado to Las Vegas, New Mexico 305 miles

Las Vegas, New Mexico to Sanders, Arizona 287 miles

Sanders, Arizona to Flagstaff, Arizona 153.1 miles

Flagstaff, Arizona to Needles, California 306.5 miles

**Grand Canyon**

Needles, California to Barstow, California 138.5 miles

Barstow, California to Bonsall, California 294.2 miles

**San Diego**

Bonsall, California to Barstow, California 267.7 miles

**Las Vegas**

Barstow, California to Glendale, Nevada 496.4 miles

Glendale, Nevada to Junction I-70 (Utah) 237.6 miles

Junction I-70 (Utah) to Parachute, Colorado 305 miles

Parachute, Colorado to Aurora, Colorado 236 miles

TOTAL 2,722 MILES

I knew this trip was going to be good. Somewhere between awaking at 4 am to get on the road on Day 1, Dad's continous singing and ridiculous dancing to The Who and Bruce Springsteen (which, for the lack of our ingenuity by forgetting to bring any other CDs, we listened to the ENTIRE road trip), and the beautiful scenery on the endless roads in Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, California, Nevada, and Utah, I became aware of just how cool this was. This was no ordinary road trip. I was getting the chance to explore. Explore the West, explore the frontier. Okay, maybe that's being a bit dramatic. After all, it is easy to develop some over sentimental and romanticized version of the West, the land of cowboys, horses, and ghost towns, remaining from the crazy days of the wild wild west. Nevertheless, as we rev'd up the F-150 (yes, we took a freaking TRUCK for our epic journey), I knew I would be seeing and experiencing things that were just...beautiful.

After I woke up just past Trinidad, Colorado (the sex change capital of the world, mind you) I began to immerse myself in a new book. It's called Leaving Microsoft to Change the World. It's one man's story of leaving behind the corporate world to help with illiteracy worldwide. It brought me back to Vietnam, and I spent some of the first moments on the road remembering. Remembering the incredible children, the village, and how I fell in love with Vietnam. An interesting thing to think about as we trekked out West.

As we pulled up for fuel in small town, Arizona, we were welcomed to a full service gas station. Window wiping, oil checks, the works. They even pump your own fuel. I had never seen a full service gas station before. Ever. To make matters even more interesting, the man helping us was a Navajo Indian, dad said. My dad can be ruthlessly shy at times, but for whatever reason, always makes friends pretty easily on trips, and talks to strangers for days. He talked with this guy about his life, him working at the station, and living on an Indian reservation. It got me thinking--because we passed reservation after reservation during our car ride in the Southwest. What is it like? How would it feel--are they happy having land and area to preserve the practices? Or are they pissed? Having to just, I don't know, stay secluded and stuck on a limited piece of land. I don't really understand it. But I want to learn more.

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The Grand Canyon

You can google image the Grand Canyon all you want. You can find pictures in books, pictures that you might think do it justice. But, when you walk slowly towards this magnificent creation and just stop. And look. The goosebumps are overwhelming, and it's clear no picture could do this place justice. The Grand Canyon is in a word, grand, and honestly, it didn't feel real to me. It was so surreal, it looked like God was painting on this earth and He just kept going. It's large. It's huge. And it didn't look real to me. Seriously. The colors of reds, browns, pinks, oranges, greys, and more unite together and just pop. The crevices are neverending, and the shape of the rocks and the canyon itself is remarkable. It was a moving experience to see the Grand Canyon, and even though tourists were everywhere, license plates from California, Pennsylvania, Florida, Arkansas (GLORY!), and even people from all over the world, I felt strangely alone. I closed my eyes and felt the wind, and smelled the rocks, and could not believe I was in the presence of something so...cool. This is just the begininng of the variety of American landscape we will get to see.

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San Diego

So, I feel dirty. There's sand under my nails, the scent of salt on the skin of my body, and sweat seeping through my bright orange Hendrix shirt. So, really, maybe I'm clean. Because I feel rejuvenated, relaxed, and joyful. I just got back from a run around San Diego, on Fashion Valley Boulevard, no less, and before that, soaked up all the California sun I could. You see, earlier today we drove through the Mojave Desert and it was HOT. Yet, even with the A/C running, I wanted that heat. So, I pushed the gas pedal harder, anxious for our rendevouz at the beach. I wanted to go fast like the red mustangs cruising passed us, to leave the Sierra Nevada in the dust, and to beat the sun. It was a race, a race I wanted to win. I guess the California sun has an interesting effect on people, or at least weirdos like me.

Yesterday was another sunny day in Southern California. We spent the first part of the day at Sea World. I loved seeing the animals. Especially the manatees and the orca whales!! But, as awesome as it was to see "Shamu" and company, I just found it unsettling to watch the animals perform tricks for thousands of people. Maybe it's all they know, but what if know about the world out there. About the expansive ocean, about the ocean floor--what if they know!? They should be free. I don't know the whole story though. And I did have fun at sea world, I really did. But I couldn't shake the vibe of consumerism and capitalism there. Later, at Mission Beach, we met up with Savannah and her and I had the chance to catch up. I love seeing Hendrix people outside of Hendrix. She took us to downtown San Diego, and her and my family just hit it off, despite our conflicting conversation about Obama and the pending health care reform situation. I guess you can't win them all. Wow, I'm so glad we came here.

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Las Vegas

Vegas is unlike anything I have ever seen: there are so many lights, people, and energy. But I suppose that doesn't separate it from any other big hoppin' city. Las Vegas is all this--and more. It's flashy and extravagent. Frankly, it's sinister. Billboards and cards are all over the place with nearly topless women. The place just screams money & sex. And for a little while, I didn't like it here. I just didn't get it. And then, slowly, I started to feel the fun vibe. People come here to relax and party. And I looked around, and saw people genuinely having a good time. Maybe I don't drink, maybe I don't even party that much, but hell, if I was 21, I could come here. I could come with my girlfriends, and we could have fun. I know it. After all, there was a show that featured HOT Australian men...enough said. I sneaked passed the casino frequently, with Lance riding my tail, to catch a glimpse of gambling. It's a strange world, and it was one of those things where you just can't look away. Vegas is kind of like that. You just can't look away. Now, would I get married there, as I saw some do? HELL NO. But, for a couple days of laying on the roof top pool, walking the Vegas strip, and riding intense rides on the top of our hotel (over 1000 feet in the air!) I had a great time. And as quickly as we came, we left. On our last night, after getting into bed right around midnight, my dad jokingly said we could leave then as opposed to getting up at 4 am. We laughed. And then decided, what the heck, let's just do it. Spontaneity at its finest. We jetted out of Vegas right around the time when most people's nights there had just begun. And we drove back to Colorado.

What a trip!

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It's an interesting thing, to begin a summer exploring the land of Vietnam and then ending the same summer roadtripping across the West. A perfect way to begin. A perfect way to end. And then theres everything in between. I saw beautiful things these past 3 months. Things that have changed my life. Things that have challenged me. As I pack up and hit the road, leaving home for my other home, I'll look out the window and smile.

But as the sun sets, it also rises.

A new day begins.

A new year at Hendrix.

A new year of adventures.

I'm ready.

the blue eyes

I have to take long slow breathes
I throw my head back and dip my long hair slowly in the water
Submerging my face, closing my eyes
Holding my breathe so that I can hide from the world
And wishing, praying, hoping
And fighting
Fighting hard
The anger is hard to recognize, clinging on, making it impossible to say goodbye to
It sticks never ceasingly to my heart like the sweet humidity of summer in Arkansas
Only this isn't sweet
It's bitter
It's anger
She should not have this
That damn disease is creepingly seeping into her, robbing her of her dignity
Of her expressions
Of her voice
Like a meticulous robber of a bank, wearing the black mask, it has no face
But it steals
Slowly
Painfully
And I'm mad
Why? WHY HER?
And the anger takes over and build resentment
It's building a bridge, a bridge that I hate to cross, a bridge I drag my feet to get to, but a bridge that I am afraid I will cross
I find it hard to even look as she eats
Hard to listen, her voice jumbling together with the tender melody she used to loudly express herself with, but now is reduced to mere mumbles understood only in quiet moments
The disease takes more and more, sucking, like a parasite the life I used to see in her
Soon, who will I see?
I get so mad
SO frusturated
Where did it take her?
Give her back
NOW.
And then I look in those blue eyes
Blue like the color of the sky on a perfect day
Blue like the quitessential color of paradise
I found her
She's there
I recognize her, I see her spirit, in her blue eyes
They may struggle to stay open, struggle to see, but there she is
Genevra
My grandmother
The woman who has taught me to live and love and to never resort to anger
NEVER.
And the anger needs to go
She is saving me again, it is her that is able to whisk away the anger with just a small touch
We hold hands and I am made whole again
I struggle and fight
And I fight more
It's in my bath, in the midst of sobs, where my tears meet the water holding my body, where I find peace
The anger is trickling away
Away and away and away
Slowly
but surely
I love her
The anger has to go
And then there can only be love

hope for the hopeless

My body lost every sense of feeling.

My heart started beating faster.

It sunk deeper and deeper.

In just a few short moments I thought my world was going to crash down.

After hearing the voicemail from my mom my instincts kicked in and I knew something was wrong. It was more than the instincts though; it was the quivering voice of my mom. The sobbing heard over a brief 10 second long message. Something had happened. I called back shaking.

Lance was in the hospital. The emergency room. He had been drinking, and evidently had way too much. That’s all I knew. I assumed the worst. I started having flashbacks. What had been the last thing I said to him? Did he know that I loved him? My friends quickly were by my side and I’m pretty sure I would have broken down right then and there if it wasn’t for them. I was scared. More scared than I have ever been, and as my breathing got heavier and heavier with every breath I knew I had to get out of there. We were in the middle of formal, at the Statehouse Convention Center in Little Rock and I felt stifled. I wanted to run. Run home and hold my brother and make everything right. More than anything, I wanted to tell him that I loved him. I did the next best thing—we prayed. Michelle prayed as my friends hung close to me. The words were like a song to me, speaking every emotion that I felt. As we walked out towards the car, I didn’t feel relieved. I didn’t stop worrying helplessly about Lance. However, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. I was supposed to take Rachel home just outside Little Rock to Sherwood, and then take us back to Hendrix. As the hair on my arms rose from the frosty air of night and the emotion swirling inside of me, I felt okay. I felt that getting us back safely to school could be done. And I was going to do it.

It was the longest drive I have ever been on. Sure, it takes well over 13 hours to drive from Aurora to Conway, but this drive seemed longer. I was urgent to get back and call my parents. I wanted to know exactly what was happening with Lance, but I knew if I answered the phone on the way back, it could be bad news, and I might have a breakdown. I just kept driving. We didn’t say much in the car. Some songs came on the radio and I sang them. I sang them with everything I had because I thought if I sung the words hard enough I might wake up from this nightmare. Maybe it would all go away. My brother was in trouble and I couldn’t help him. It was eating at me.

Everything turned out okay. Relatively okay, anyway. Lance had too much to drink and got in trouble, and had to be taken away to the hospital. He will have to deal with the consequences, but all things considered everything is alright. I had to tell myself that over and over again today. I told myself that at Greenbriar this morning. Everything is going to be okay. Everything happens for a reason. God will bring us through this. I have never been so scared, but I also have never felt so grateful. God was with my brother. I believe that. He is always with us.

I got goosebumps a lot at Greenbriar this morning. My mind was on Jesus, and coming to His presence, but it was also on Lance. His face, his voice, it couldn’t escape me. As the goosebumps engulfed my body I can’t help but think Jesus was reminding that His love will sustain me. That despite how helpless I felt, I could still have hope. Because at the end of the day, Lance made it out unharmed. Mentally, emotionally, and spiritually he will struggle for awhile. But he is here. By the grace of God he is here. Amen, Hallelujah.

This isn’t the first problem my family has encountered. Ha, oh no. My family has been through a lot, and probably more than anyone on the outside could understand. My family is so far from perfect. So far. Not that I have ever wanted the perfect family. What would I learn from that? I love my family for exactly who we are. Exactly for the love we share, and exactly for the feeling I get when I am around them. We have never been normal though. The closest thing to normalcy may have been the summer days when I rode my bike around the neighborhood with Lance, and we squealed with delight when we got our chili cheese dogs from the barn store, along with a large slushie to finish off the meal. I remember those days like they are fresh in mind, like they just happened. That was about as normal as it ever got. It’s not that I didn’t have a wonderful childhood—I did—but we went through a lot as a family. I know my mom and dad loved each other for a long time, but I also remember when it started to fade. My mom was unhappy, my dad was unhappy, and the tension continued to build and build. My mom turned to anger, my dad turned to alcohol. They never put any of these things before their love for us, but in their attempts to escape their unhappiness, our family started to fall apart little by little. My brother and I began to fight and though we were once best friends, that seemed like a distant memory. The summer before my freshman year in high school it happened. They told us they were getting divorced. To be honest, I am surprised it didn’t happen earlier. I was upset. Still, I knew it was the right thing. People have tried to tell me that divorce is wrong. In a sense it is. It is wrong to have a family endure everything a divorce entails, but until you have gone through it, you don’t know how it feels. My parents needed a divorce. For the sake of my brother and I, and for the sake of their happiness, they needed a divorce.

5 years later I can’t help but be appreciative at everything that has happened since then. My relationships with both of my parents have been drastically improved and strengthened. Lance and I have grown closer again, and both of my parents are in happy marriages. Healthy marriages. I also found God. I mean, I really found God. I am lucky for everything to have turned out so well. I know that with some of my friends, divorce has been much uglier, and has resulted in them dealing with the negativity for years and years afterwards. It is apart of me, and will be apart of me for the rest of my life, but it was a blessing in disguise. Trust me.

We’ve had our problems. But God has always got us through them. He has always helped us in a time of need, and I have no doubt the same will be true with Lance. Because even though my family has had problems and was broken at one time, we are still tied together by our boundless love. I can list off the problems my family and I had to deal with throughout my 20 years of existence, but doing so would ignore the beauty, mystery, and love that my family has also experienced. We have seen astounding places in the world, they have supported me at every field hockey game, we have watched Denver Broncos games together, yelling until our voices were sore, we have laughed during family game nights, and we have shared our dreams. And of course, we always had (and still do) our interesting political debates. Even now, as a self-proclaimed democrat, who admires Obama like woah, the debates are still good. Actually, they are better. There’s nothing like hard-core Republicans criticizing the newly converted liberal.

This to will pass. Lance is going to be okay, and even though he may be hurting now, I am hoping this will be a wake up call for him. I am realizing just how important my family is to me. Despite the imperfections, the problems, and the silly drama every now and then, I realize that no family is perfect. That’s completely beside the point anyway. My family is about love, and no matter how hard it gets, I can’t ever forget that.

The best part about family? It keeps getting bigger. Not because of my extraordinarily large step and extended family, but because of the people that are entering my life. My friends are apart of my family, and to me, that is a beautiful thing. It just keeps getting better.

You don't choose your family. They are God's gift to you, as you are to them. --
Desmond Tutu

Mexico

7 days.

7 perfect, wonderful days.

I just got back from Mexico less than a week ago and I still can't take the smile of my face. What's more is that I still have my rockin tan. Teehee. I can still feel the insurmontable heat on my skin, the sound of the waves crashing along the shore, and the taste of insatiable strawberry daquiris (ahem, virgin of course). My dad, Lance and I had blast on our trip and really, it was exactly what we all needed. I have been having a busy summer filled with work, internship, friends, coaching, and exercising. It's been a blast. Truly. But I needed time to leave it all behind for just a little while and relax. My dad and Lance have been doing much of the same things: working and keeping busy. We knew that this vacation could not have come at a more opportune time and I truly believe that the trip brought us all closer together.

We spent the first day of our trip pretty much traveling. We had to get to the Denver airport relatively early to make our connecting flight to Dallas. Once we got into Dallas we had to wait for quite some time...our plane was delayed for mechanical reasons. Yet, once we got on the plane to head towards Cancun we were PUMPED. Lance and I had a hard time staying still the whole way there, and my dad had to tell us to be quiet more than once. Ha, just like old times. We finally made it to Cancun around 10:00. The first thing I did? Well of course..I had to check out the ocean! The water was so warm, so beautiful. It was different from the other times I have been to Mexico. In Puerta Vallarta the water was a rich, navy blue. In Cabo San Lucas the water was much colder. I smile as I recall Audra and I sitting on the beach with those boys from Wyoming late at night...hahaha...but that is another story, another time. Anyway, the water in Cancun was TURQUOISE. A deep mix of light blues, topaz, and more. Stepping into it was refreshing; it was so welcoming and so warm. It was unlike anything I have experienced.

We spent the first day lounging around the pool and the ocean. My dad surprised me. He is quiet around some people. In fact, unless he is around family and familiar people he tends to be quiet. Oh no. Not here. My dad literally was friends with everyone in the hotel by day 2. The waiters knew his drink order, and he somehow managed to become Mr. Popular. Me, on the other hand made friends with the ocean. I read Twilight in 2 days and just listened to my IPOD under the cabanna. LIFE WAS GOOD.

Our first big adventure came on 4th of July! My it was strange not being in the USA for the 4th. Especially since it is one of my favorite holidays! The hotel put up a couple decorations here and there, and some local clubs were having Independence Day bashes..but otherwise it was just another normal day in Mexico. We decided to go snorkeling. We left Cancun and went to a marina just outside the city. It was beautiful. The captains of the boat led us on board and we were headed out to sea! When we finally got to jump into the water I was just so..exhilarated. I saw SO many fish. More than that, Lance and I got to feed the fish. We were practically swimming with them! AHHH it was so exciting. After that we all participated in what was dubbed "The Spiniker." It is like parasailing, but more like a swing in the air. Lance bellyflopped in, I swung like a monkey, and my dad yelled "I have no control of my life!!" I think everyone thought we were the freaks on the boat, but hey, what's new.

After we got back from snorkeling we got a little dose of the real Cancun. The Cancun outside the Hotel Zone, the Cancun outside tourism. We went to the heart of the city on a city bus. My dad gave the bus driver a few pesos and we stepped on. Immediately, I felt out of place. As I looked at the faces of the people on the bus, looking back was a group full of curious locals. It appeared as though many were just getting off work and heading back to their homes. They seemed to wonder what these Americans could possibly be doing on a city bus, and I couldn't help but smile when my dad started talking to one of them. It is amazing how nothing ceases him from embracing strangers. It is a gift. We drove for close to an hour; at one point we thought we had gotten on the wrong bus and weren't even going to get back to our hotel. But that became minute when we passed homes built out of sticks, beggars running through the streets, and dogs running on the sidewalks with tumors bulging out of their poor, tender skin. It was a whole other world...and only about 10 minutes from our hotel. We didn't say anything to eachother as we passed through the poverty-stricken streets. All I could really think about was how selfish I felt for being on vacation. I felt as if I was strutting how luxurious or rich I looked to be...I felt like was so absorbed in being on vacation that I forgot to think what it was like for the locals. For tourists to constantly be in their homeland, swarming the beaches like cattle. Okay, that might be a little exaggerated, but I just felt helpless. All I could do was look and wonder how they managed to get by with so little. God is in control. I had to repeat that to myself on the way back to the hotel. Over and over again.

The next day was a day that any adventurer would live for. We went to Tulum which is a site for ancient Mayan ruins. One word. COOL. It was thrilling to be on the old stomping grounds for the Mayans and to hear about their culture and ways of living. As a history buff, I was fascinated and wanted to hear more and more about the Mayans. Our next big adventure occured the next day and it was by far the highlight of the trip for my dad: deep sea fishing. We got on a fishing boat with another family from Nebraska and we went miles and miles out into the middle of the Carribbean Sea. As I looked down, I remember being able to clearly see the tranquilty of the fish as they moved through the coral, and occassionally seeing a big baracuda ready to invade and eat some dinner. Dad ended up catching a sailfish (like a marlin) while Lance and I both got baracudas. The feeling of reeling in a big fish was new and exciting; the biggest fish I recall ever catching was a salmon in the cold, rushing rivers of Colorado. Needless to say, we pulled back into the pier a happy bunch.

The rest of the trip was spent around the hotel and around the ocean. At one point my dad and I tried to find a bookstore in the middle of downtown Cancun. Two taxis, a bus, and three blocks of walking later we came upon a mall and finally found the bookstore. OF COURSE there was a small English section. With about 4 different selections for English readers. Bugger! I had been looking for the sequel to Twilight but even though it was a failed mission it was quite interesting. I spent a lot of my time by the ocean just taking it all in. I felt so small in the midst of the millions of grains of sand and of the powerful ocean. It is utterly breathtaking to know that God created all of the beauty on this earth. As I dug my feet further and further into the sand I spent time thinking about what God has done in my life, what I have been through, the relationships I have built, my dreams, and what I truly love. That I think was the best part of this vacation. I had time to reflect. I had the freedom to take it all in. Not only this, but I had thoughtful conversations with both my dad and Lance. We spent hours every night at dinner laughing and gazing into the ocean. I am so blessed to have had this experience..especially with those two. After 7 glorious days I have a new appreciation for my life, for Lance, for my dad, and for all the blessings that God has given me. Mexico was pretty much baller.

As the plane headed BACK to Dallas lifted off and I had a chance to look down and see the landscape of the Yucatan Peninsula I smiled. I smiled not just because of the great memories I made and not just because of the good food I consumed, but because I grew closer to my family and grew closer with God.