Is there a better bet than love?

Dad and I sat at our kitchen table tonight for almost 2 hours. Everyone else was out and about, so we decided to just sit down and talk for awhile.

I felt grown up, I'm not going to lie.

Maybe it was that I was drinking a beer with my dad.

Maybe it's because I still feel the 21 euphoria.

Maybe it's a little of both.

More so though, I think I'm feeling more grown up, at least in my relationship with my dad these days, because we've grown closer. After everything with Lance, it's like God has brought a new appreciation for each other in our family. Dad and I have spent so much time together this break, and I have learned a lot about my dad. I can talk with him about anything it seems, and he feels the same way about me. He told me so.

I've always admired my dad in a special way, but since he's opened up about what he feels about God, what he loves about being a teacher and what he struggles with in teaching, and the regrets he has in life, it's like a whole new dimension has been created in our relationship.

We talked about things going on in his classroom, and it was fascinating. I have so many memories of going to school with my dad and watching him teach, and he was always so good at it. He likes to be Mr. Tough Guy by punishing students with pushups, but more than that, he genuinely cares about his students. We talked about kids in his class that are on welfare. Kids in his class that are trying hard are barely passing. He is in a dilemma with many of these kids, and I felt grown up in that he was confiding in me for advice. What do I know about the classroom? About high school kids barely making it? Yet, he wanted to know.

Even on my birthday, up in Blackhawk, he told me I could ask him 5 questions. These 5 questions could be about anything. Specifically, things I have always wanted to know about my dad. He vowed to answer fully and honestly. He just said, "Heather, you're 21. You are growing up. We can talk about things as adults now."

I can't reveal the questions or the answers, as I was sworn into Newell secrecy.

Let's just say it this way—there is a very clear reason I am the daughter of Edward (Ted) Lance Newell.

We're crazy.

We're weird.

But, we love life.

Chances are only what we make them and all I need

Friends, family, and acquaintances have been constantly asking me about Ghana, about the University, and about what exactly I will be doing in Africa.
And that's more than understandable, expected even.

My dad likes to joke that he isn't sure why I so badly want to go abroad when I already study abroad in Arkansas every year. Hahaha. But really. This is quite a leap from Conway, Arkansas.

I have had moments of foolishness, it feels like, because I don't have all the answers.

They ask what my classes will be, what the conditions are like of where I am staying, of the places I will see, of my roommates, of the culture, and of the food.

It's inspired me to try and figure out exactly what I am doing and where I am going.

I can tell you this:

• The University of Ghana is considered the most prestigious university in West Africa
  
• It was founded in 1948 as the University of the Gold Coast, originally an affiliate with the University of London
  
• Approximately 42,00 students attend the University of Ghana
  
• One graduate was the current President of Ghana, John Atta Mills
  
• Accra has a tropical savanna climate
  
• If you want dining and nightlife head to the well renowned Osu neighborhood in Accra
  
• Chicago is the sister-city to Accra
  
• Ghana won its independence in 1957
  

As you can see, I know very little. These are just a few of the facts I know about Ghana.

When I tell people of the upcoming adventure I may throw some of these around to provide a little bit of reassurance. I also tell them I try to take social work classes, I remark that I really want to join a sports team, and I conclude that my activities outside of school may include working in an orphanage.

I am always sure to note that I do know one of my best friends, Rachel, will be right there along with me. If nothing else, this crazy ride will be shared between us, our own experiences, and yet the opportunity to learn from each other as we experience something difficult to vocalize. I've noticed that once I say one of my best friends will be there, there always is a sigh of relief. A support system, a friend. This, above knowledge gives more reassurance than anything.

So here I am. About to go to Africa.

Maybe it's becoming more apparent that I don't know exactly what I am getting into.

And yet, this is what I wanted. You can never really know what life has in store for you, but with the University of Ghana, I literally do not know. Deep down, I like that. I like not knowing. I like going into something with no expectations. So much of life is rooted in expectations. This isn't bad. In fact, necessary at times. But this time, there are no expectations. What will happen, will happen. It will be hard, I can imagine, to truly embrace this. But ultimately, this is my goal.

As I try and describe the experience I am about to have to others, it has become so clear to me.

You can't know a place until you GO.

I can tell you all that I read in my orientation packet, or maybe what I read from Wikipedia, or possibly what Amanda told us just a few weeks ago. But, until I go, all we have is speculation.

Who knows what is about to happen. My heart is ready. I feel ready. When the plane touches down in Accra, Ghana everything will become real. More real than I might even comprehend. I am going to pray for balance, for patience, and for strength. With these, I know God will help me to understand the weeks ahead. Through good, through bad, this adventure is about to become a reality.

Peace.

    

Lines & Walls

I feel myself closing off

Which says a lot, since I feel like all I ever do is let people in

It is easier to shut people out, you know

The baggage you carry can just fall by the wayside and you don't have to deal with that stuff if you really don't want to

You can draw the line

You can put up a wall

And I've done that before 

Hasn't everyone?

Aren't relationships often filled with a variety of walls meticulously placed to cover any flaws we are afraid will emerge?

And for me, those walls came crumbling down when I decided that that isn't any way to live

I have nothing to hide

I am who I am

And If I'm on guard, I pray I let it just come down

Or If I keep walls up, God willing there is a reason

Can you really ever know everything about someone?

Can you really know everything about yourself?

kids

I am lucky. Every morning or afternoon that I decide to take a run here in Colorado I often have clear skies, perfect temperatures, and the mountains as my backdrop.

When I am on my runs my mind does one of two things. On some days it might be running in circles, thinking about everything I could possibly think of, while some days my mind finds balance, and I don't think about much at all.
Three days ago it wasn't one of those days where I had a peaceful run. My run was spastic; I really was all over the place. Some of that was due to the issues Lance has been having, some of it was rooted in dealing with an assortment of emotions after finally being home and leaving Hendrix, and actually some of the thoughts that circled in my mind were about what I wanted to do with my life.
I've spent a lot of time trying to find the perfect descriptor, the perfect way to encapsulate what I want to do after college. I've been looking for the right label, the right career.
And just like clothes and everything else in life, labels just really don't work for me.
I don't really know what my future is going to look like. I can admit that. I do know, with full certainty though, that whatever I do after Hendrix, kids will be involved. I've got a lot of learning left to do, but in my nearly 21 years of life, many of the moments that stand out have been with kids. It's also true that these moments with kids has brought new insight into my life, with some kids teaching me more about life than I could ever learn on my own.
On the corner of Colfax and High Street turn right. Park 2 blocks away. That way, you can get in a nice brisk walk to clear your mind. You will pass an elementary school on one side, and one of Denver's historical districts on the other. Scratch that. Before you really see the historical district, filled with Victorian architecture, you will probably be distracted by the fading homes along the sidewalk. Not quite projects, but not quite comfortable living, it's hard not to wonder what it must be like to live in these Capitol Hill Apartments. You will walk in and immediately head to the third floor. This will lead you to the family area section of the Gathering Place. Smile at the women you pass in the stairwell. You can't imagine the battle they are fighting. When you enter the family area, the colors are vibrant, toys are everywhere, and there is laughter. This laughter comes in the midst of pain, loss, and fear—more than I could really ever understand. Yet, there is laughter, and the kids seek this.
I seek this too.
Lizzy, Janet, and Jesus taught me how to love God even when it is hard to comprehend the trials we all face in life. The prayed with me—in Spanish and English—and made me feel a part of their small family.
Betty showed me how to be a friend. She especially showed me how to smile and how to be kind always.
Ezekiel, even though just being a little guy, taught me how far a hug can go. Ezekiel means "God will strengthen" and I always felt my spirits lift when I was in his presence.

Being with kids has always been easy for me. Okay, that isn't completely true. How can I forget the crazier moments, the moments that made me want to scream? I've watched kids who cry the minute the garage door closes, I've had kids hide from me, and I have also dealt with rather intelligent kids who try and bribe their way out of bedtime. So, it hasn't always been easy. But even with the kids that are less than delightful, I still find myself wanting to be with them, wanting to help them.

Kids love easily and want to be loved back. That's what I want to do, I think. I want to just be in a position to love—to show kids out there that someone does care. I want to help kids know that they too can get an education. More than anything, I want to assist them in fully realizing their potential. Somehow, I want to show kids the strength they have inside, and how they can use this in life to find their calling, to reach their dreams.

I don't know what you call that.
But, it may just be my calling.

This is what I was thinking as I glanced up at the endless sky, more blue than I have seen in quite a long time. No, it wasn't a day that my run was calm, smooth, and effortless. My calves were spotted with a mixture of dirt and snow, my legs were sore, and my mind was buzzing. But, I guess when you think about the things to come, about what to do in life, and about the blessings and opportunities God provides, it's hard not to get just a little excited.

Betsy & Janet at TGP

http://www.the-gatheringplace.org/

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.

Heifer

Arnold Palmers are my favorite drinks.

I am weird.

I want to be a social worker when I grow up.

Mexican food is my favorite.

I feel loved.

I dream of going to Italy.

My favorite thing in the world is laughter.

My name is Heather Newell.

My favorite movie is the blind side.

Banana Cream Pie is the best dessert ever!

Green is my favorite color.

I am from Aurora, Colorado.

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.

22

I left a message on Jessica's facebook today to give her the countdown of how many days it will be till I am back home in Colorado.

22 DAYS.

It caught me a bit off guard. 3 weeks. That means I will go to St. Louis for, come back and finish up classes, take my finals, pack up, and drive back home in a matter of 3 weeks. Not to mention doing all of the reading I still have to do, writing a few papers here and there, and play intramural floor hockey and volleyball.

More than that in 3 weeks not do I only have to pack up, but I have to say goodbye to Arkansas for the next 8 months. Goodbye to Hendrix, to my friends, and to my home here. That's scary. Exhilarating of course, considering the adventures to come. But, scary all at the same time.

I told Maggie today at lunch that I am really just trying to take everything in phases and just take each day as it comes.

I will say goodbye to Hendrix when that comes along. I will go home when it is time. And when it's time to say goodbye to my family and to Colorado, I will be ready.

As for the next 22 days?

I'm going to have a lot of fun. There might be tears. But I also know there will be a lot of laughter, joy, and memories.

Soon in my life there will be snow, and lots of it. I will be playing outside in it with my family and with Buddy, because that is the best part of having Christmas in Colorado.
Soon in my life there will be the big sun in Ghana, with no snow. There will be a new place, a new adventure, and there will be Rachel.

But now, for the next 22 days, I am here.

Time to live it up. Beginning with a night of mayhem. Oh you know, SoCo 54, y'all.

Footprints

They always say that people come and go in your life. Some, supposively, leave footprints. These are engrained in your heart, your mind, and your soul.

Can you ever know which people will stay?
Or, can you ever really take hold of a relationship meant to exist only at a certain time?
The people who have walked in my life are numerous, barely recallable, as I mentally think about old friends, strangers, fleeting relationships, and those who stuck around awhile, and even those who left as quickly as they came.
I remember Mrs. Hamilton from 3^rd grade. She taught me to love, well me. There was a time in my life where I didn't have a ton of confidence In myself, and still Mrs. Hamilton helped me see that who I was was something to be proud of. We were penpals until I was in middle school, and she always reminded me that liking country music was cool no matter what the other kids thought. She encouraged me to read, to explore, and to appreciate the knowledge you can find out there in the real world. I was the quiet, shy, and curious kid in my class and she let me be exactly that.
I remember Erik Bromley. I was practically head over heels for that boy from the beginnings of elementary school until 7^th grade. We had our moments of holding hands, but I think that was only because I would take out the boys during the epic soccer games at recess. Surely he wasn't after my refined femininity. I remember that he "broke up" with me over email. Classy, right? I was that love sick girl in middle school for him, but really, I could have done so much better.
I remember that homeless man in DC. He played the drums on the streets and we took a picture with him. He made me laugh. And our class thought he was so cool, and I did too. I struggled to understand why he could only fit his belongings in one bag. I can see his smile, his laugh, and I can't help but wonder what he's doing now.
I remember my great grandmother Lillian. She died when I was 7, but if I close my eyes long enough, I can see her face, feel her holding me. She was stunningly beautiful, and a woman of love. I remember her house in Nebraska, the way the color pink filled the room, and our large family crammed in one room, laughing. Lillian would play with all of the kids—my cousins—and I loved it there. I hate that I didn't say goodbye. I didn't go to her funeral.
I remember Roslyn from Birmingham. We met over coffee at Highlands Methodist and she was homeless. Yet, that was hardly her identity. She was beautiful, with remarkable features. Her eyes were big; they looked like they could hold all of the world's pain and love. At once. We talked openly about my college journey and her adventures in life. We emailed for the next two years, when suddenly the emails stopped. I don't know what happened, who stopped writing, but as I contemplate whether I should write one back, I can't help but wonder if she was just one of those people to come in and out of my life.
I remember Jennifer, my best friend up until middle school. We were childhood friends, our daddies had grown up together too. I imagined we would be friends forever, just like our daddies. Distance. It was really all it took. Jennifer isn't really Jennifer anymore. She identifies as a man now, and I suppose this is why I have avoided her the past couple of years. I think she has also hesitated in seeing me. She might not know what I would think. I think she is probably right. I don't know if I will see her again. Jennifer has changed, as have I, but I look fondly on our summer camp adventures, trips to the cabin, and fishing with our daddies.
So many people have left footprints.
Some that have left footprints in my heart are still around. Or maybe they are long gone, but I guess what I am trying to do, as I will the rest of my life, is to appreciate the people in my life for the time that I have them. Time and relationships are both fragile and I hope to learn one of these days that whether the people around me are staying or going isn't really the point. The point is that they are here. Now. And I can learn from them while they are around, so that I won't take for granted the days I have with them. I have been feeling this way about everyone here at school. I have deep relationships here: friends, teachers, mentors, teammates, and acquaintances. I know they won't all last once we leave Hendrix. It makes me worried. But instead, I can accept this and live it up while I am here.
My memories from Hendrix already mean something to me. I can't imagine these memories 20 years from now.
Still, the Hendrix experience is lasting another year and a half. No need to get ahead of myself.

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.