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.

 

 

Sundays in Conway

Sundays are one of my favorite days during the week. I get a taste of everything. Of friends, of God, of outdoors, of school, of relaxation, of coffee, and even a little bit of laundry.
Sometimes it really is about the simple things in life.
I really love my life here.

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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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.

i'm just a summer girl.

"You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight."

--Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat Pray Love

I was anxious about this summer. I was excited about this summer. I was worried about this summer. And I was ready for this summer. To the core, I may be a reckless, winter loving mountaineer, but deep down, I am a summer girl.

Already it is June. Already the temperatures are starting to peak. And already, I am wondering where exactly this summer is taking me.

Starting the summer in Vietnam was...well...beautiful, to say the least. To have such an intense, life changing, and amazing experience in just 10 days, and then return back home was whirlwind.

And when I returned home, I was happy. It was good to be back in the cool Colorado altitude, the company of my family, and the familiarity that coming home always provides. I was thrown for a loop when I lost my job after a week of being home, found myself in the midst of some rocky family business, and in an unsure place with my friends. And yet, I knew, no, I felt that everything that was beautiful was here. It was with me. And just because a few things spontaneously alter my plans for this summer, well, it just goes to show that sometimes plans suck. Plans don't always leave room for the unexpected, for the alternative path, and hell for the right path. Humans are wrong. A lot.

What I have learned in just a short month, has been to find beauty in everything. It's easy to write about, it's even easier to talk about, but being able to find beauty in not just the overt wonders of life, but also the small things. The things that others may not find at first. The things that look like nightmares at first. The things that are covered in what looks to the straightforward mind as worthlessness, when really they can mean the world.

Having some of my plans go kaput is beautiful.

Finding a passion for yoga is beautiful.

Rekindling old relationships with friends is beautiful.

Sunbathing in my backyard with my blind dog by my side is beautiful.
Crying is beautiful.
Laughing is beautiful.

Going to the pool only to be rained on is beautiful.

Having diverging viewpoints about God and spirituality is beautiful.

Having my best friend live 45 minutes away is beautiful.

Returning to the Gathering Place is beautiful.

Running in the State Park is beautiful. Being able to run 40 minutes without stopping is beautiful.

Singing in the car is beautiful.

People watching in City Park is beautiful.

Writing letters and receiving letters is beautiful.

Missing my best friends is beautiful.
Eating too much icecream is beautiful.

Driving on I-25 and being stuck in Denver traffic is beautiful.

Watching my brother make mistakes and then learn from them is beautiful.

Reading until the wee hours of the morning is beautiful.

The more I search my heart, the more I meditate on the summer that I have been having, I find myself having few complaints. I am blessed to have what I have in my life. I think the people, the circumstances, the spirit, and the beauty around me is a lot like watching a magnficent sunset over the west to the Rocky Mountains, seeing the perfect golden colors intertwine to remind us of what this glorious Earth holds for us. What God provides. And then to know, that the sun will rise the next morning, with equal beauty, and equal magnimity.

And it's also beautiful to know that the small things do matter. And that when I return to school, and back to my life at Hendrix, saying hi to acquaintances walking near Mills, sending sweet notes to my friends, watching the squirrels run around like hyperactive toddlers, and just enjoying the experience as a whole is what matters.

It's funny because this summer I have had time alone to think. I always value the time I have alone, but this summer I have grown as an independent woman, more than ever before. I've been thinking a lot about change, particularly in regards to the environments that I have been in--from high school, to college, to my home, to around the world--it has all impacted me, and I have responded to change in such different ways. When I graduated high school, and my friends and I took pictures outside the Ritchie Center on the DU campus, I recognized that change would likely happen, but that it couldn't and wouldn't change my relationships with my friends. As far as I was concerned, we were solid.

It's all changed.

The dynamics that I have with my friends at home are all sorts of crazy. Nothing is the same, and 2 years ago, I never would have predicted what has become of my relationships. It's been bittersweet.

And maybe, instead of fighting this change like I did 2 years ago, you can use change to carry you from one life experience to the next.

That's really what this summer is about for me. I am changing, I am digesting the changes that have already occured, and have yet to come. It's all beautiful. It has to be. Because it is our duty to find beauty in life, no matter how small. No matter how slight. No matter how insignificant. Life, and everything in it, is, at its very essence, beautiful. I'm really just a summer girl. Not because of the hot and sweltering sun, not because of the long lazy days with the girls, not even because of the freedom to take spontaneous adventures. No, I'm just a summer girl because it's in the summer where I can thrive in my independence, I can reflect on the change in my life, and I can accept the little things as beautiful. Yes, I'm just a summer girl.

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.