Life on the Road: A Recipe for the Perfect Roadtrip

The Perfect Roadtrip

(If I'm being completely honest, I'm not very good at cooking because I cannot, for the life of me, stick to a recipe. So I just made up my own recipe for a roadtrip...and I think I cooked up some pretty awesome memories.)

Yields: 4 ½ dozen smiles and countless unbelievable memories

Total time: 4 days

Ingredients:

1 white Ford Focus

1 GPS

4 heaping cups of creativity

A dash of incredible friends

4 awesome CDs of your choosing (I chose Passion: Awakening, Passion: Here For You, Church Music, and Rehab)

6 cups of coffee

1 reusable grocery bag full of clothes

3 cities of your choosing

1 sketchy gas station

½ teaspoon of goodbyes, softened

Directions:

Day 1—I grabbed my GPS named Sonya, my reusable grocery bag full of clothes, cup of coffee #1 and jumped in my white Ford Focus (“Walter”) to head for Lexington. The first Passion CD cranked up, the drive to Lexington was fairly uneventful.  Upon arriving, my dear friend Rebecca and I went to the lake and chilled in the water, talking while little fishies swam around our ankles.  Then, the lovely Miss Megan arrived and joined in the memory making.  Thirty minutes later, we were adventuring around Lexington: swinging in parks, braving the icy cold river to get to the rope swing (we didn’t actually make it…but we did consider it), exploring a creek, eating way too much delicious food at a Greek and Italian restaurant called Kovachi’s, going to an acoustic show at a quaint coffee shop called Jamestown (add the second cup of coffee here), and ending up at Sonic to watch Tyler In-A-Cabinet get hit on by a carhop. One heaping cup of creativity was required to come up with all these amazing adventures, but it was completely worth it.  A late night gave way to an early morning and…

Day 2—I was up before everyone else to get on the road to Greer. Here, I added the second Passion CD and David Crowder*Band’s Church Music. My next host, the beautiful Courtney, called to ask when I would be arriving and I requested cup of coffee #3. Somewhere between Lexington and Greer, I found myself behind a PT Cruiser sporting a license plate that read “Amercan.” Oh, how proud I am to be part of a country where people can spell!  Sonya’s directions were lacking this time…I exited I-85 and she had no idea where I should go. I figured it out, though. I've always trusted my own sense of direction more than a GPS anyway. At Courtney’s house, I met her little brother and sister and had some good conversations about the newest Pirates movie.  Then, we headed to Lake Keowee where the water was cold but the fellowship made me feel warm inside. I also discovered that blueberries are my favorite vegetable (oh, the side effects of lack of sleep) and Courtney shared with me her opinion on what it’s like to be a buoy.  On the way back to Greer, we stopped by Dillard’s for some delicious ice cream. Serendipity! Two of my good friends from middle school were working and I got to catch up with them while eating banana pudding ice cream.  Back at Courtney’s house, we made some Star Wars cupcakes that were actually muffins and fell asleep watching “Monty Python and the Search for the Holy Grail.”

Day 3—Once again, I did not get enough sleep, so my day began with cup of coffee #4.  All dressed up, we headed to church and then left for Greenwood. Luckily, we didn’t need Sonya this time because I knew exactly where I was going. We listened to one of the Passion CDs but mostly just talked the entire way from Greer to Greenwood. There’s always catching up to do when you go from living with someone to not seeing them for 2 and a half weeks. Courtney and I pulled into the Greenwood Wal-Mart parking lot with some time to kill so we talked some more and then decided to drive around the parking lot. We had used up 3 heaping cups of creativity coming up with plans for the day (if you’ve ever been to Greenwood before, you understand), and we were antsy to get started.  Zane finally decided to show up and the frolicking began. And after an odd afternoon full of odd adventures and odd statements (be careful how you use the words “frolic”; “grudge”; “wonky”; and “lactate” in a sentence), the three of us were all amazed at how quickly time had flown. It was time to add ½ teaspoon of goodbyes but none of us were quite ready. So we stalled…and stalled…and stalled some more. But Courtney and I finally left, trying not to think about the fact that this was the last time we would see Zane for months. We chose to take the scenic route over Lake Greenwood, searching for a BP gas station and some light-hearted conversation on our way out.  I was reminded again how much I hate goodbyes. But Courtney and I rolled out of Greenwood listening to our newly acquired Lecrae CD, Rehab (thanks, Zane), windows down and darkness quickly approaching as the sun set.  We found a sketchy BP somewhere between Greenwood and Greer and proceeded to have all sorts of mishaps there. We were just making memories, though. Once back in Greer, we crashed. We had more adventures than we could really handle in one day…all that frolicking…all that hitting Zane with random things in Wal-Mart…all that Ben and Jerry’s…all that great atmosphere in the Greenwood Mall. Oh man.

Day 4—Courtney and I met her mom in Mauldin to unlock her mom’s keys from her car. We then went to Mimi’s Café for avocado BLT omelets, muffins as big as a rabbit (a Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog perhaps?), pancakes, and…MORE COFFEE. Back at Courtney’s house after breakfast, we finished “Monty Python” and said our goodbyes. I had only been on the road for 10 minutes when I got a phone call informing me I had left stuff at Courtney’s house (big surprise there!). So I turned around and met Courtney at a gas station (this one was not sketchy) to get it. I got back on I-85 towards Blacksburg thinking that my adventures were over. That’s when I hit traffic. An hour and a half and only 10 miles later, I finally hit open road and made my way back to Rock Thrill, home sweet home. No worries, though, I really didn’t mind the traffic. I just rolled the windows down, put my sunglasses on, and listened to the Lecrae CD enough to learn the hooks for all the songs and almost memorize the raps for my favorite songs.  And when I pulled into my driveway, it was very bittersweet.

I don’t know how many miles I drove. I lost count early on.

I don’t know when I’ll next see my wonderful friends, but that’s what Facebook is for, right?

I don’t know if this was actually the perfect roadtrip, but it was the best one I’ve ever been on.

I don’t know if this is what being alive looks like, but it must be pretty close.

“But I’m changed, now I’m something different/I’m changed, I love the way I’m living/I’m changed, saved me from my own sin/I’m changed, I learned how to live again.” –Lecrae, “Used To Do It Too”

Life and Death in a Garden

Today was a perfect day for gardening.  It was cool enough to remind me that summer has not yet arrived, the sky heavy with clouds that threatened showers all day.  I knelt in the grass with my hair falling around me and pulled weeds out of one of the gardens my sister plants every year.  She’s always had a green thumb and a love of growing anything and everything; I could kill a cactus.  Actually, I could probably kill a rock. I just become negligent over time. Life happens and the things in my care begin to wither.  But just being outside was intoxicating. I was in the mood to weed today.

I went to San Francisco for spring break this past year with a group of freshman and sophomore Bonners from CofC.  We were there looking at nutrition, and that translated into a lot of time spent in urban gardens.  I loved it, every second of it—the weeding, the planting, the digging, the listening and learning, the harvesting. I loved having my hands completely immersed in the earth. I loved finding earthworms and just breathing in the smell of urban farms.  I grew up around gardens.  I knew how to identify tomato plants by their distinct smell and how to get down underneath the roots of weeds so they wouldn’t grow back as quickly.  Several of the other students on the trip decided to take what they had learned about gardening and farming back to Charleston, promising they would start urban farms of their own.  I know myself well enough to know that I enjoy gardening but that I would not have the dedication nor the natural talent to coax a garden from the sickly sweet brown earth of Charleston. 

Today, though, was a perfect day for gardening.  In spite of the cicada that stalked me and fussed incessantly as I moved around the garden, I was completely content. I sang, I pulled weeds, I discovered the miniscule serendipitous treasures that a garden holds for people who are unafraid to get their hands dirty and patient enough to look. The two hours I spent on my hands and knees working mindlessly but thinking constantly were the perfect cure for the restlessness that summer brings me every year.

The cicada that stalked me died and I was sad.

The weeds I pulled out lay scattered just outside the garden boundaries like casualties from a brutal war, but I do not mourn them.

The rain finally broke free of her cloudy barrier and soaked the freshly weeded garden, feeling like new life.

There’s still dirt under my fingernails, stubborn as sunflowers that will grow anywhere, and I feel very much alive. I cannot say the same for the stalker cicada and the murdered weeds.

The Lord will guide you continually,
      giving you water when you are dry
      and restoring your strength.
   You will be like a well-watered garden,
      like an ever-flowing spring.

                                Isaiah 58:12

Thoughts on Leaving Charleston: Lessons Freshman Year Taught Me

1.       The importance of pillow talk—Courtney and I stayed up late so many nights just talking and catching up (we were both so busy this past semester). By the end of our conversations, we would be terrified to look at the time, knowing that it was probably some ungodly hour.  Yet, I was never tired the next day…

2.       What true community looks like—Props to Charleston BCM. I never realized how important it was to have a strong group of Christians supporting and encouraging you until this year.  Now I know.

3.       That Citadel cadets aren’t all bad—Yeah, I just said that. If you know me at all, you probably just fell on the floor.  That is quite a long story though…

4.       The best place to actually get studying done is at the Charleston Place Hotel—Who knew that staying up until 2 AM studying in a hotel would be a good idea???

5.       Discipleship is the bomb—I got Katie’s dust from her sandals all over me this year. And it was awesome! Seriously, though, having someone pour into me and mentor me has pushed me to think, live, and be deeper. And then getting to pour into someone else has made me rely so much more on God—on His wisdom, His strength, His guidance, His consistency.

6.       The worst things in Charleston are mosquitoes and tourists—Essentially, they’re the same thing, though.  They like to come out when it’s cool and just be pesky. And a lot of times, you just want to smack them. Yes, I was once a tourist.  But I have learned my lesson.

7.       The best memories are made when you’re spontaneous—Some of my favorite memories from the past year are from situations where everything seemed to be going wrong so we ended up at Waffle House doing Emperor Palpatine impressions or wandering through a dark alley near the Battery talking about past relationships or spotting dolphins out at Waterfront Park at midnight.  Spontaneity pays off.

8.       Watching “The Office” is more about friendship than Michael Scott’s witty remarks—Thursday nights at 9 o’clock almost always found me watching “The Office” with some of my best friends. I did it for them…not because I find “The Office” hilarious. It’s just a’ight.

9.       There are other college kids who want to spend the rest of their lives doing ministry and mission work—I feel less alone now. It’s great. They’re inspirational.

10.   How to own my faith—Before college, I just soaked in everything. Now, I filter it. I choose what I believe is true based on my understanding of what the Bible says and of what God is convicting me.  I applied for SummerSalt (it’s a summer camp) this year and didn’t get the position. But as I was filling out the application, I found myself challenged to put my beliefs into words and to support them. I have grown exponentially because of it.

11.   The best place to watch for shooting stars is Sullivan’s Island—Laying on the cool sand in the dark as the Sullivan’s Island lighthouse flashes overhead is quite an experience.  It’s the best place to have seriously deep or ridiculously light-hearted conversation. And you’re guaranteed to spot at least one shooting star if you’re patient enough. I couldn’t help thinking, I can’t believe I live HERE.

12.   That the word “blog” sounds like a disease—Eww! Did you hear she has a blog these days?? That’s so unfortunate.  Hopefully her doctor will be able to give her something to cure that up quickly. (Oh, the conversations that happen when college kids are running on approximately 4 hours of sleep.)

There’s more…so much more. But I fear this blog post is already too long.

Oh. Where is the paradox in this? Well, I went to College of Charleston, and in the midst of all the darkness, I learned to shine brighter.

Thoughts on Leaving Charleston: Goodbyes

The goodbyes of my freshman year lasted for an eternity.  I feel like the goodbyes began a month ago when everyone began to see the light at the end of this semester's tunnel.  It began with the last BCM, my last day at the Children's Museum. my last ESL class, my last time doing discipleship with Katie (we ate at Poe's and talked...it was a good last).  I know that I'll return in the fall to do it all over again, but it still felt like too much closure all at once.

And then it came time to say goodbye to the people in my life. Some of them I knew I'd see this summer. Some I knew would be mostly absent from my life for the entire summer.  And some I knew would not be returning in the fall.  I hate goodbyes.  If we're being completely honest, though, few people genuinely like goodbyes, right?  I avoided them as much as possible during my last week, carefully selecting the phrases "I'll see you later" and "I'll talk to you soon" instead of submitting to the goodbye.

An incredible last day in Charleston surpassed my expectations: Star Wars marathons, sushi, sitting in my car just talking with my roommate for hours in the dark.  But the next morning, when my roommate and I stood outside our dorm room which had been completely emptied of our stuff but not our memories, the goodbyes hit hard.  I just stood there, clutching my fish bowl and a broom as she pulled the door of Buist 404 closed for the final time.  I drove out of Charleston blasting the Passion Awakening CD.  It was unbelievably dusty in my car and I involuntarily teared up a little. (That's a lie.  I cried like a baby through the first six songs on the CD and then sniffled the rest of the way home.)

Freshman year was over.

I happily said goodbye forever to chemistry, math, the semi-warm showers of Buist....

The rest of my goodbyes, though, were a little more bittersweet.  I don't know what next year will hold.  But I've officially given in to the goodbyes of freshman year.