The Things I Carried

Do you know that moment when you think you’re  completely packed up and ready to move out only to discover an entire cabinet or drawer that you neglected? Usually, there’s nothing too important in it. The important things get packed up right away, checked and double checked. But I think the leftover things in that last cabinet or drawer are important in their own telling way...

Last week, this is what I found:

A can of Orange Fanta: Coming into this year, I would have told you that was my favorite soda. It contains no caffeine, but it is bursting with bubbly orange sugar. I discovered it years ago. Now, though, I have this obsession with Dr. Pepper Ten. I know, I know...it’s not for women. Whatever. DP10 got me through my fiction writing class during the first half of this semester...the days when I left my room at 9:15 and went from class to work to the Children’s Museum to class to Bonner meetings, lucky to be back home by 9:30 to start my homework for the next day. On top of that, fiction writing was a hard class. My professor challenged me in so many ways, and after hearing him bark out my last name frequently in my twice a week, three hour long class, I was weary. At the end of the class, I actually cranked out a halfway decent short story and had a bonding moment with my professor where we realized we were both believers. He had a lot of good advice for this young, aspiring writer. Was it worth the stress and exhaustion? Probably. But I think Dr. Pepper Ten will forever taste like the sound of my name being barked at me.

Partners in Crime

A bottle of green spray paint: In perhaps one of my most unique and creative Halloween costumes ever, I used the spray paint to make a Psych t-shirt. Inspired by the “American Duos” episode of my favorite television show, my roommate and I were Gus as Michael Jackson and Shawn as Kurt Smith of Tears for Fears, respectively. It was so complicated to explain to people, but the looks on the faces of the people who follow the show were priceless. The costume was fairly accurate in describing our friendship, too. Like Shawn and Gus, we do our share of ear flicking and driving each other crazy, But in the midst of the INSANE  year we both had, it was good to have a partner in crime willing to make banana pancakes in the shape of the Millennium Falcon and make life seem just a little sunnier. We spent our last night together on Sullivan’s Island, just watching the right angled light beams from the lighthouse pan overhead and talking about all the adventures we’d had--the good, the bad, and the incredibly ugly. We’re going to be roommates again next year. It’s going to be awesome.

A jar of apple butter: From the Mennonites of Abbeville, SC--it’s amazing. Seriously. The only ingredients in it are apples and spices, no sweeteners and no preservatives. I appreciate that. It was a perfect discovery from last summer, since dairy was no longer a dietary option after my trip to Honduras and I needed to find new breakfast foods I could eat. Spread some Mennonite apple butter on a couple slices of toast in the morning and life was very sweet. Even more, I appreciate that my grandparents are the ones who supply the apple-y goodness. They were my rock of stability in the midst of moving around a lot growing up: they were always in Greenwood, in the same house with the same huge tree in the backyard with the same unending love just when I needed it. They are both amazing people.

A bar of soap: It was still in its little box, just waiting to be used. The soap seemed insignificant until I recently found a list of all the random things I wanted to do this school year that I typed up on my iPad back last summer when it was brand new. This list included everything from “Cook supper for one person at least once a week” to “Sing in the shower frequently, but don’t feel obligated to shower every day.” (The latter is my explanation for not finishing off my soap supply for the year.) Why would I make it a goal to shower less? I blame it mostly on my trip to Honduras. While there, we had (if lucky) an hour of “running water” each morning. That didn’t translate into a hot, comfortable shower...it meant a trickle of cold water that couldn’t really get all the shampoo out of your hair. It made me more aware of the massive amount of water Americans use daily. We really take our clean, seemingly unlimited access to water for granted. So in an effort to be a better steward of the water I’ve been blessed with, I spent this past year taking shorter and fewer showers. For my information, see Water Missions International's website. I’m quite smitten with their organization.

A bottle of pure maple syrup: Half-used and left over from some sweet potato souffle, it was a remnant of my goal to cook for others. I knew I liked to cook, particularly for other people, but I mostly put this goal out of my mind once life got crazy (basically day 1). I was lucky if I got to cook for myself, much less anyone else. About halfway through fall semester, though, I grew very uneasy with the way I was doing life. Still without remembering this idea that I should cook weekly for other people, I decided to start, with Courtney’s help, cooking one meal a week for the people on our hall. I sought organic community, and what’s more organic than the people I live with? This easily became the most rewarding and exciting part of my week. Courtney and I tried out great recipes, made great friends, and created a home for ourselves and others in Rutledge 407. I didn’t even realize I had accidentally fulfilled one of my goals until a couple days ago. Crazy. Perhaps the saddest part of the year ending has been realizing that even when we go back in the fall, it won’t be the same. Next year, we’ll live with an entirely different crew...I guess that’s both saddening and exciting.

That’s it. The last year in five random household items that were almost abandoned when I moved out. It’s too simplistic. It’s much too final. But there it is. 

Missional Living in Greenwood, SC

A couple weeks ago, I visited the lovely town of Greenwood, SC. Believe it or not, the Southern city that is home to Lander University, a Wal-Mart, an O'Charley's, and not much else is one of my favorite places to spend time. I was born there and my grandparents still live there, so it's like a second home. I went with the intent of spending some quality time with my grandparents, but other opportunities arose, too.


Just after I returned from Honduras, my grandpa sent me an email asking if I would be willing to speak to his Sunday School class about my experience. I'm not one to keep up with email and I planned my trip to Greenwood without even imagining I would have the opportunity to share about Honduras...so a few days before embarking on my journey to Greenwood, he asked me on the phone if I was interested in speaking. Of course! The only thing I love more than actually experiencing missions is sharing my experiences with people, in hopes that they will embrace missional living in their own lives. What do you say to a group of senior citizens who are probably smarter and wiser than you? Only the words God gives you. As I was preparing, my grandmomma sent me a text (yep, my grandparents are pretty tech savvy) asking if I would also be willing to speak to a group of college kids. Now that one was right up my alley. There were a lot of things I wish people had told me about how you can live missions in your everyday life, how you can travel with a group of nonbelievers to do service and make it a mission trip, how God works in funny ways to get you where He wants you, how a little faith can go a long way (ever heard the one about the mustard seed?). So I put together a pretty presentation with the help of Prezi (check it out: http://prezi.com/hha0mjroq0es/honduran-adventures/), packed my suitcase, made a mixed CD for the roadtrip to Greenwood, and headed out.

It was so good to see my grandparents. It always is. I love talking over a cup of coffee, waking up early, going on shopping adventures, being crafty, and just hanging out. I swapped summer stories as they fed me entirely too much food and spoiled me in ways that only grandparents truly can. I loved every second of it! But it was so awesome to also have the opportunity to speak to two very different groups about my experiences in Honduras. I'm not sure if the group of college kids from Woodfields Baptist took anything away from my talk other than the baffling fact that I ate a LOT of beans and tortillas, but my prayer is that their eyes were opened to a world of missions to which all Christians are called, though each in a different, unique way. And even though I spoke very loudly, I don't know that the Sunday School class I spoke to at Rice Memorial Baptist really heard and understood what I had to say about life in a foreign country where corruption and chaos lurk around every bend in the mountainous roads, but I hope they now have a new perspective on the importance of supporting missionaries through prayer and donations...and how supporting missionaries makes them missionaries, too! It was good closure for me. It forced me to think about my trip as a whole and to face the fact that I am no longer in Honduras. I am in South Carolina, and there are so many ways I can serve here. 

While in Siguatepeque, I learned that mobilizing the church to embrace missional living begins with changing your own personal lifestyle. When you start living with a passion and drive for God's work, the believers around you will do the same in response. It starts with me. It starts with you. Individuals make the difference. Individuals start every revolution. 

Life in America is painfully different from the Honduran lifestyle I grew to adore. Being spoiled by my grandparents in the little town of Greenwood, SC is a far cry from eating beans and tortillas in San Buenaventura, HN. But wherever I am, I am called to be a missionary. I am called to live my life for God's purpose. Missional living, here I am.