[at home]

"What instantly makes you feel at home?"

"My dog. Is that a bad answer? A dog, my dog, animals make me feel at home. A puppy, an animal, any sort of dog. Animals are so calming, they're just your sense of home."

"Tell me about your dog."

"Ok, so, I have a dog, her name's Molly, and I've had her since I was in third grade. She's a black lab, and she's probably my best friend. We go on hikes together, we go to the beach together, she basically comes everywhere with me. I'm obsessed with her.

"How did Molly feel when you left for college?"

"She waits by my door every single day, that's what my mom told me. She waits for me outside of my bedroom door. Clearly, she's upset. That's what I'd like to think at least!"

"Home" can be hard to come by this time of year, although it seems to be in constant conversation. With the holiday season fast approaching, people assume that you're returning to a physical location--but sometimes, there isn't time. There isn't money. There just...isn't. The physical location is one thing, the comforts of "home" are hard to mimic elsewhere...but when we really think of "home," rarely do walls, couches, and tables come to mind.

We think of the pictures on the walls, showcasing the people we love.
We think of the people we love on the couches, inviting us to join.
We think of the dinners had around the table, the conversations and stories swapped over a good meal.

We think of so much more than a physical location. "Home" is so much more than that.

When we "go home"--when we truly "go home," we are reuniting with those that know everything about us, and love us anyway. We are reunited with people, pets, friends, family, all of which have molded us into who we are, and continue to shape and encourage us each and every day.

Maybe it's one person, maybe it's one pet...maybe it's the place that shaped you, challenged you, and propelled you forward. But whatever that piece of home is, that sense of home is--cherish it. Recognize it. Hold on to it for the days you won't be able to return, and the days it may not be there to return to. Because as much as this world can hurt...home can always heal, home can restore and rejuvenate, and home can make you whole again.

[childhood memories]

"What's one thing that makes you feel like a child again?"

"Definitely playing outside. Whether it's frisbee or hammocking or...chasing someone, playing tag--I think that's one thing that instantly makes me feel like a kid. When you're running, and you feel that little thing on the inside of your stomach, when you know you're gonna get caught...or playing hide-and-go-seek, too, because you're sitting there for more than 10 minutes, but it's so fun at the same time...and you get that little tinkle and you're like, "I really gotta pee!" 'cause you always did that when you were little, you know what I mean? It happened every time!"

"What's one of your favorite childhood memories?"

"We always went to the beach with my grandpa when we were little. One time we rented out this house right on the beach, I was probably...7, maybe? So my brothers were older. And we walked the entire 3 miles along the beach to collect sea drift and we created a baseball field out of it, because we would always play wiffleball in the front yard. We made an entire baseball field, it was so cool! Then we played wiffleball with all of my cousins and stuff, and that same day, we made sand candles. We still have them in my bathroom back home. It was the one time--especially with my grandpa--where we were all together."

Together. Perhaps that's really what we miss most from childhood--a sense of belonging, of togetherness that comes from having those you love all in one place. We go from meals around the dinner table to meals alone, the television taking the place of a family conversation. Separated by time and space, time together just isn't a priority, replaced by the twists and turns of life's unpredictability. Moments spent together become memories of a time past, until one day only the memories remain.

Reach out to those haunting your memories. Call them, get coffee with them, write them a letter--even if they aren't around to receive it. Maybe then you can begin to recreate that sense of togetherness once more.

[faith & trust]

"What is the most memorable conversation you've had with a stranger?"

"A couple weeks ago, I interviewed to be a Catholic missionary. It's kinda under wraps--no one really knows. I went to this interview weekend really spur of the moment, I didn't necessarily have any intention behind it besides going to have a good weekend with some good Catholic people and I was excited to meet new people. Regardless, I went to the interview and it was a really deep interview--not that you have to spill your entire life story out to them, but they do want to know a lot about you. They want to know what makes you tick, your qualifications, things like that. It was kinda cool that although I didn't know the people that were interviewing me, at all, we shared our faith. And I think it was more than that--we shared passion, too. I just think that if your passion is strong enough, whatever it is, you can talk comfortably about it with anyone. Even though they were asking really deep questions, like 'what's your biggest fault?' and 'what is something you completely regret?', I felt so much comfort in the fact that these strangers in front of me share a common faith and a common passion--there was just trust in the air. It was really comforting, and really affirming."

"When was that last time you felt that sense of trust?"

"This summer, I worked at a summer camp on adult staff. On the adult staff, there were four other people I really bonded with, and I built a lot of trust in them. It was a good, uplifting, healthy group. We had good confrontations with each other--we would fill each other up and uplift each other, and then we would go beyond our little clique to reach the rest of the camp. It was a beautiful, uplifting summer."

"Do you miss it?"

"Yes."

[20 going on 30]

"Where do you see yourself in 10 years?"

"I think, in 10 years, I would like to see myself content. The reason I say that is because right now we have so many avenues ahead of us...we can participate one organization, or take this class, or that class, and everything is always up in the air. More than anything, I would like to see myself in a position in which I am I am content and happy. I want to be content in my job if I'm a manager, or if I'm just starting out, or if I'm just coming out of school, whatever and wherever I may be. I just want to be content with life--if I'm dating someone, or if I'm not dating someone, or if I'm cool Aunt Sara, or whatever it may be. I want to be content in the relationships I have outside of my family. You're always meeting new people in college, and I have these incredible friendships and I think the scariest thing about finishing college is wondering if I'll still have them. And so I want to be content in those relationships, and make sure I've done everything I can to uphold them."

"What do you think the 30-year-old you would say to the 20-year-old you?" 

"I would like to think 'let go and calm down a little bit,' but knowing myself, the Type-A will never leave me. I think she's going to say it's okay to go with Plan B. This is even something I'm learning this week. You have a plan, you stick with that plan, and everything will go according to plan, and that is the way it will be...and then things don't turn out the way you expected, or people surprise you, or things surprise you, and it's ok that things don't always turn out the way you anticipated. How you bounced back is going to define you, rather than your failed plans." 

  

[need a hero]

"What is the biggest lie you've ever been told?"

"I think the biggest lie that I've ever been told is that I can be my own hero. This world tells us that we can be our own hero, and we can do anything if we set our minds to it--and I believe we can set our minds to a lot of things and do great things, but I fall short, and I'm not perfect, although I try so hard to be. I am not capable of saving myself. I'm a Christian. Once I accepted Jesus into my life, my life changed, because my life was no longer about me. Before, I was believing the lies of this world that my life was about me--what makes me happy, what makes me content, what do I want to do with my life, what do I want to accomplish, where do I want to go in life--but once I accepted Jesus into my heart, there was a total plot twist. Now, instead of ruling my own life, he was ruling my life, and that changed a lot of things. Now I know that the purpose of my life is to serve him. Everything I do, my underlying purpose, is to glorify him. My friends come and go--humans aren't consistent. My passions come and go, even my family can come and go. Everything in my life changes, or can change in an instant. The only thing that has stayed constant is my relationship with the Lord.
The biggest lie that I've ever been told is that I am enough on my own."

Respectfully, I disagree. I think we all have the potential to be our own heroes, to "save" ourselves.

But we also don't have to.

The arms of your friends, your family, your professors, your influencers, your motivators, your encouragers, your saviors are extended, ready to catch you.

You just have to be willing to let go.

Ask for help.
Seek support.
Embrace vulnerability.

You don't have to save the day.

[easy mac]

"How do you want to be remembered, or for what do you want to be remembered?"

"I think I want people's first impression of me to be my smile. But I don't want them to necessarily remember my smile for just my smile, but rather the joy behind it, the reasons behind why I'm happy, or excited, or in a good mood. I don't want them to just think, 'Hey, that's the girl that's always happy.' I want them to ask themselves why I am so happy, what joys have happened to make me this happy. I'm going through a 'quarter life crisis' right now--I'm changing my major, I just don't know to what--but it's good that I can still find reasons to smile, even through it all. I just focus on making the small things the big things."

"What are some of the 'small things' that are meaningful to you?"

"My Easy Mac right now! It's triple cheese instead of normal--that's something to smile about! And I got the last chocolate chip cookie today--the rest were oatmeal, that was also really exciting."

The future is far too heavy a burden for our thoughts. Too many mornings we embrace the day not as an opportunity, but as an obstacle, separating us from a reunion with our beds.

We don't celebrate the day--we get through the day. And in the process, we all but lose the gifts to be found and cherished within the present moment. We expect the sun to rise, the leaves to change, the people in our lives to be consistent. We anticipate that we will have food to eat, water to drink, and breath to propel us into the next moment.

Expectation, anticipation rob us of appreciation. Gifts are nothing without gratitude.

Treasure the mini moments, the causes of joy that, without warning, slip like sand through the fingers of the unsuspecting individual. Seek to celebrate the moments that make you smile, if only for a little while.

[insomnia]

"What keeps you up at night?"

"My anxieties, wondering if I'm doing the right thing. My worst nightmares and my insecurities tend to keep me up at night."

"What is your worst nightmare?"

"All of my fears coming to a head. Especially with the future and not knowing--it kind of keeps me up at night. If I don't get into grad school, if I don't make my parents happy, if I don't make others happy...that's kind of what keeps me up at night. And I always go back through my day and overanalyze every situation you can think of. 'I should have done this thing!' or 'I should have said that instead of that,' just not being the perfect me that I can be. But I'm still learning who that perfect person is, and it's not perfect. It's the ideals that I've set for myself, and if I don't hit those...that's my worst nightmare.

"What gets you up in the morning?"

"The thought of a new try, and a new start to forget what happened the day before, although sometimes it's really hard. And a good cup of coffee. And knowing that I get to sleep at the end of the day, that it's not farewell to my bed!"

Isn't it scary when the monsters we thought were just under our beds appear to have infiltrated our minds, robbing us of sleep and stealing our joy?

Suddenly, The Boogieman doesn't seem that bad. At least there's a tangible enemy to be had, a tangible enemy that could be defeated, given the right circumstances.

But when the monsters come from within, grown from seeds of doubt carefully cultivated through years of self-judgment...then it really gets scary.

These monsters keep you up.
They keep you questioning every decision, every choice, every dream--every capability--you possess.
And, worst of all: they won't go away when you turn on the light.

[a separate peace]

"What is the one thing that would make your life complete?"

"Hmmm. One thing...oh, gosh. I guess...I would say having a peace of mind. I feel like I'm always so uptight, that I don't really enjoy anything because I'm always worrying about the next thing I have to do. I guess it would just make me smell the roses every now and then and enjoy life, because I'm not going to be twenty years old forever. I'm scared I'm going to get to be fifty and I'll think that I wasted my younger years."

"What does your 'peace' look like?"

"Being confident in my abilities, being content with the situations at hand, no matter how bad they might be, and just finding the good things in every situation, instead of focusing on negative."

"What is preventing you from finding that peace?"

"Being scared of failure. That's my biggest fear. Failing at something."

I could tell she meant what she said. Her request, her yearning was not some frivolous answer born of  convenience or ignorance--rather, it was thoughtfully crafted to hold the weight and reverence her deepest desires demanded.

But she isn't unique.

How many other people are holding themselves back from pursuing what would make their lives complete? How many fear failure so fiercely that they allow those fears to control their actions, their thoughts?

What are we missing when we live out our fears, instead of our dreams?

Perhaps fear is easier. By resigning ourselves to a life of fear, we chose a predictable course of action that keeps our worlds consistent, familiar. By resigning ourselves to a life of fear, we become satisfied with mediocrity, and "settling" is accepted as the standard.

But what of dreams? What of embarking on a journey envisioned by many, but sought by very few? By living our dreams, our comfort zones become a thing of the past. The unknown is welcomed warmly for the opportunities it may bring, instead of feared for its uncertainty.

What's stopping you from finding your peace, from living your dream?
Is the certainty worth the sacrifice of the life you've imagined?

[talking to myself]

When the weight of the world becomes too much and talking becomes exhausting, I retreat to the highest point I can in my general vicinity.

I let the wind steal my breath.

From the top, the world seems manageable. Funny, even. Watching the rat race from above, I'm able to cast aside my responsibilities and revel in the fleeting freedom.

The last parking spot at the top of the stadium parking garage offers one simple suggestion to those that seek its wisdom: Be Ready.

But...for what?

The concrete walls tell no tales.

And so, I'm left to wonder:
Am I ready?
What should I be ready for?
How can I be ready?

The street lights flicker on as the sun begins to dip behind the horizon.

Is anyone ready to realize that being an adult feels like being a scared kid with bigger problems?
Is anyone ready to realize that they don't quite recognize their own reflection in the mirror?
Is anyone ready to continually question themselves, their direction, their intentions?

Is anyone ever really, truly ready?

Is anyone prepared for friends to become strangers, or for enemies to become valued acquaintances?
Is anyone ready for their parents to become their friends, and for their friends to become their family?
Is anyone really ready for "home" to no longer feel like it used to?

Again, I ask: Is anyone ever really, truly ready?

I don't think so. I don't think anyone is ever really, truly ready, regardless of what we may tell ourselves.
But that's okay.

We're all in the same boat.

We're all a little lost.
We're all a little crazy, all a little scared, all a little giddy.

Come what may, be ready to embrace the uncertainty, the complexity, and the change within yourself and within others. It's the only way to make it through the day.

The parking lot begs you, the feeble freedom felt at the top implores you: be ready.

[be you]

"If you had to give one piece of advice to a large group of people, what would it be?" I asked.

"What age group?"

I paused. "Good question. I'll let you decide that."

"I've always said if I ever had the opportunity to talk to people that were going in to high school, I would tell them to be yourself, and do not pretend to be someone that you're not. It makes life so much easier. Especially for me, it took me until senior year to realize that people don't like who I'm not, they like who I am. When I finally I got college, I was like, 'This is what it's supposed to be like.' So whenever I do talk to people going into high school, I tell them that. I'm like 'PLEASE be yourself,' and they're like 'What?' and I'm like 'I'm serious, this is my real advice! You have to be yourself.' It's just too much to try to be someone else."

"Who were you pretending to be?"

"I just pretended like I was happy no matter what. If someone made fun of me, I said it was no big deal, but really it hurt. And so I would just try to act like I knew what people were talking about, and tried to fit in. I tried to be the sarcastic, hilarious person that everyone thinks is funny so they want to keep them around, but I really just didn't fit in with any of those people."

"Who are you really?"

"I am...that's a really good question. I am extremely outgoing, I love meeting people, talking to anyone that I can...it's to the point now, and I just love this, that when I'm walking around on campus people don't like to walk with me because I know so many people. They feel like losers! I'm like, 'Well, I'm sorry!' My friend looked at me yesterday and goes, 'I'm just the appendage.' I was like, 'What?!' That's the best thing I've ever heard!"

[say she's a dreamer]

"What do your dreams mean to you?"

"What do my dreams mean to me? Well...you don't know what they mean to you until you know what they are. But when I think of my dreams, I guess I think of...just knowing that there are people that have been so many places and have done so many things, and here we are. Do you remember that one part in 'The Fault in Our Stars', when Augustus is just so afraid of oblivion, and being forgotten?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, ok. Well anyway, I heard this quote one time, and it was basically saying you die twice, once when you pass away, and then when your name is spoken for the last time. That just really struck with me. It's so true. We are all so afraid of being forgotten, and I feel like dreams expand ourselves. I feel like having a dream is something that sets you apart, even if it's someone else's dream. Just that you have that ability and opportunity to dream, it's such a freedom. I'm so thankful that I can dream, and that I can share those dreams with people. It's so universal and personal at the same time."

When we are young, we are taught to believe in the power and the beauty of our dreams.

For the young, it's not a question of "if" their dreams come true.
It's a matter of "when."

But when the young become the old, the paradigm seems to shift.

When did we stop believing that we could walk on the moon, become a princess, be the best teacher ever, or find the cure for cancer?
When did we decide that "dream" was synonymous with "fantasy"?
When did becoming mediocre become okay?

Perhaps becoming a princess isn't feasible for most, and perhaps becoming president may be more difficult than your four-year old self thought, but...please. You owe it to yourself to have a dream, to share that dream with the world, and to work toward making that dream a reality.

Don't let your dreams be just fantasies.
They mean so much more than that.

[choose happiness]

"Why do you chose happiness?"

"I feel like life is only worth living if you are as happy as possible. Anger doesn't bring anything to you, but if you are happy, you bring a lot to other people. So, why put other people down if you can lift people up? So I feel like I'm always happy more because it gives to others more than it gives to me."

"What was your happiest moment?"

"I work with down syndrome kids. I started a teen night program in Oklahoma City, so whenever we were getting ready for it, we were blaring Hannah Montana at the check in table before the kids got there. The first kid that walked in started dancing like a maniac, and was just so, so happy. I literally almost started crying, and it hadn't even started yet. To see there happiness multiples mine by a hundred." 

It's easy, sometimes, to forget to be happy. To let happiness become a byproduct of circumstance, instead of a daily choice. 

But then we are confronted by the smiles of those that have reason to frown, to be angry, to turn their faces up to the sky and ask, "Why me?" 

And then, we remember. 

Is it worth it to be angry? Is it worth our energy, or our precious time, to be bitter, sad, upset, or otherwise unhappy? 

No. Not for an extended amount of time, anyway. 

Our feelings are important, our feelings are valid, whatever they may be--but at the end of day, what matters most? What is really worth your pain, your sorrow, your tears, your sleepless nights? 

Choose wisely. 

Does your anger serve the world? 

Does your bitterness serve the world? 

Does it serve you? 

Let it go. Free yourself of your commitment to pain. Seek to see the good. Choose happiness.  

[the big red button]

I felt like a greatly distorted version of "The Crocodile Hunter", hunting for heads and new friends instead of overgrown lizards like Steven Irwin. Camera in one hand, iPad in the other, I walked outside the Union searching for a stranger. 

I found him sitting on a park bench, quietly drinking his iced black coffee and watching as the world went on around him. With the exception of the statues, he was the only stagnant figure outside of the Union. I decided he needed some company. 

I gave him a small wave.  

He gave me a strange look. 

I took that as permission to sit down with him. 

I launched in to an awkward introduction about who I was and what I was doing. I fumbled for the right words to adequately explain why I was intruding upon his peaceful afternoon. Finally, he understood. Our conversation began. 

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked. 

He smiled. 

"I want to build electric cars."  

"I joined the solar car team because it sounded cool and I knew one of the people that was on it. The captain of the solar car team knew a guy named Brian Shanks who works at a company that does electric car batteries. And so the team captain hooked me up with an internship there, and I've been there for two summers now."

"What's it like watching one of your inventions on the road for the first time?"

"Typically, it's unnerving and frantic, because something always goes wrong. Especially when I program stuff, because there are always bugs, initially. And typically I'm the one driving it, so if something goes horribly wrong, then I have to hit the big red 'oh shit' button. That's the technical term. I haven't gotten too hurt, yet."

[an explanation]

Small talk exhausts me.
Scripted conversation in general does.
"How are you?"
Think about how naturally your answer flows, whatever it may be.
"Fine."
"I'm so good."
"Good."
"Well, thanks. And you?"
Most times, I think we answer without thinking. We stick to the script, and if we deviate from it, both the speaker and the listener are caught off guard.

Some expect a real answer when they ask how someone is doing.
Most don't.

East Side Gallery, Berlin Wall. Photo: KB

I just spent the last two months in Germany, where small talk was a luxury I couldn't afford. I can't speak German, so when I found another English speaker--when I had the chance to have a conversation at all--I jumped right to what was meaningful. Yes, there was always a bit of room saved for pleasantries, to start off....but then it was on to the good stuff.

We would discuss the differences between our countries, what it meant to be German, Russian, or American.
We would question the views and opinions of the other, debating the validity of the other's view.
We talked about the dreams we had for ourselves and our families.
We talked about what life was like with our families.

We talked, always, about something more than the weather or the score of the last football game.

Since returning to the US, I feel myself learning my lines again.

"Oh my gosh! How was Germany?!"
"It was so good."
"It was incredible."
"I learned so much, about myself and the world, silly as that sounds!"

I always answer with a smile. They do, too. We smile, maybe we hug for good measure, and that's it. Germany was good. Two months of living abroad can be summed up in one simple, tired word.

It saddens me.

[small talk] is my attempt to ask real questions to real people.
"Good" will no longer be an acceptable answer.