Hey friends! Today, I felt like sitting down and writing about how I ended up in a sorority. I think the stories like mine are really important in the grand scheme of Greek life, because a lot of people like me don’t ever join for thinking that they don’t belong. That’s what I thought, too. But that’s why I want to shed some light on my experience. Storytelling is a powerful tool for empathy and for change, and with both of those things in mind, I want to talk about this really vital piece of the puzzle that is my college experience.
In order to explain the whole story, we’re going to need to take it back a bit…to the summer of 2017, when I first moved to college.
I was on vacation in Oregon with my dad’s whole side of the family — aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents included. One afternoon, I was chatting with one of my older cousins, who had just graduated from college. She had been in a sorority at her university and loved it, and she wanted to know if I was rushing, too.
I pretty much laughed it off when she asked me, thinking that she couldn’t be serious. Me? A sorority? Not. A. Chance. You couldn’t pay me to join an organization where everyone clapped along as they sang annoyingly energetic songs from inside their big fancy house on Greek Row. In my opinion, Greek life was for the self-absorbed, party-crazy girls who had belonged to the “it-crowd” in high school. And of those three criteria, I fit zero.
As of now, I am no longer a teenager.
I have been on the planet for two full decades. Weird!
….. ….. …..
Hello again, friends! I hope your first two-ish weeks of this year have been treating you well. I’ve got lots of good content planned for the coming weeks, and I hope you are as excited as I am for 2019! But, on an unrelated note, I just wanted to pop in today to announce to the world that I have made it to 20 years old!
Now, I’m not making this announcement in hopes that I’ll get a bunch of “Happy Birthday” comments on this post (besides, my birthday was a week ago already), but because I want to take a moment or two to reflect on who I have been up until this point and who I would like to be going forward. After all, 20 is a big number! Honestly, I really like the sound of it.
I love Thanksgiving. Love it. It is a day full of sitting on the couch watching the Macy’s Parade (and the dog show that follows it) and hanging out with your favorite people and eating some dang good food and wearing a cute sweater.
Perhaps the best part about Thanksgiving is that it is the doorway to Christmas season! (My family has a yearly tradition of picking out our Christmas tree and decorating the house the day after Thanksgiving.)
But all of that aside, let’s talk about thankfulness for a hot sec.
While Thanksgiving is a secular, American holiday without any true religious meaning, God still cares about thanksgiving. Now, I don’t mean Thanksgiving with a capital “T”; I mean just “thanksgiving.” They are different.
I’m back, ladies and gents!
This post is a little different than most others I’ve published.
While there’s been a lot that has gone on here in Paris that I hope I’ll get around to sharing eventually, there is a more pressing issue on my heart right now.
Alright. Truth talk.
Staying strong in your faith in college is hard. Staying strong in your faith at a large, public college is harder. Staying strong in your faith at a large, public college known for its reputation as a party school is, as you can imagine, a bit of a challenge. I’m not going to lie, it is really frickin’ hard sometimes.
Now, I’m not off in skimpy clothes raging every weekend. Or any weekend, actually. And because I’m not, it’s easy to feel like I stick out like a sore thumb here. It is far too easy to fall into the trap of believing that being different makes me weird.
I have been at college for seven weeks.
I would like to tell you that so far, they have been the best seven weeks of my life, but that just wouldn’t be true. In fact, they have been stressful, terrifying, exhausting, overwhelming, confusing, and incredibly difficult.
When the first of my friends left for school in early August, I watched them flourish. Constant Instagram posts and Snapchat stories displayed countless fun activities, tons of great friends (which they were making so quickly), and a bubbly “I love life” attitude. Naturally, I expected the same thing when I left for college.
Ten miles southeast of Ensenada, Mexico lies the small, poor village of Lomas Bonitas. For a decade now, my church has returned to this struggling community each summer on a missions trip. Some of the most notable accomplishments: in 2007, volunteers built a brand new church; last year, they constructed a house for the village’s Pastor Carlos and his family, who had previously been living in the church’s basement. This year, our team focused on rebuilding the children’s crumbling play structure, painting and repairing homes, and teaching the creation story through a vacation bible school program.
Ready for a good laugh?
#1: Physical Exhaustion. Anytime you want to work outside of your house, somewhere like a coffee shop, for instance, you have to bring all your materials with you. In my case, that means my laptop, charger, phone, notebook, journal, Bible, and pens. Which is fine except for the fact that the Bible is practically the largest book known to humankind, and my beautiful illustrated version of 1500 pages seems to weigh about five pounds when it’s in my bag. So basically, hoisting my tote bag over my shoulder multiple times to get to and from my designated work space for the day feels like the equivalent of doing bicep curls. So dang heavy!
Recently, my youth pastor gave an incredibly insightful message…whether or not there is an actual name to the concept, I refer to it as The Goldfish Metaphor.
Sitting on a folding table in my church parking lot last Tuesday evening were two large, rectangular fish tanks filled with live goldfish. One of the tanks, containing probably 50 fish, was labeled with a piece of paper, “The World.” The second tank, containing around 15 fish, was labeled, “The Church.”
‘Twas two weeks before Christmas, and B had a thought:
“I’ll throw a Christmas party! I’d like that a lot!”
She set a date, she made invitations,
she baked sugar cookies and bought decorations.
The day was approaching, the excitement grew.
Only one day to go, and next thing she knew…