Today, I helped my family move my little sister into the dorms at K-State for her very first year of college. She is living with our cousin, who often feels like our third sister, and they are living in the same hall where I spent my freshman year - one of the most memorable years of my life. Spending time doing that today made me think of all of the things that three years of college and being on my own has taught me, and I'm primarily writing this for the benefit of my 'two' little sisters, although I'm hoping they figure out most of it for themselves.
1. Call your mom, call her often, and do exactly what she says. She is always right.
For probably the first six months I lived in the dorms my freshman year, I could call my mom when I couldn't find something and she would remind me where we had packed it before I could even think about it. She always knows how to fix things when I'm sick, the answer to my friendship problems, she proofreads important e-mails, and helps me when I have to learn how to do adult things, like shop in sections of the grocery store that are not cereal and noodles, get a stain out of a shirt that I was sure I had completely ruined, and she even gives her opinion on outfits via text message when I have a presentation.. or a date.
2. Contrary to what the six year old you says, you cannot have ice cream at breakfast.
Okay, at least not everyday.
Occasionally I go to my old high school and speak with seniors who are preparing to transition to living in a dorm and the one question I can always count on is - how is the food? I am usually faced with a room full of wide eyed seventeen year olds when I even begin to list the options available to them - but just because your mom is no longer preparing healthy foods for you should mean you stop eating them. You should only have ice cream for breakfast, at most, once a week. Otherwise, stick to cheerios. Also, eat fruit.
3. Accept the fact that honestly, the little things don't matter all that much.
I guarantee you that at least one of the following things will happen to you over the next nine months:
-you will oversleep and miss a class
-your printer will decide to go on strike at the most inopportune time, forcing you to admit to your prof that you did, in fact, wait until the last minute to write that 12 page paper.
- you will get caught in the rain and show up to class looking and smelling like a wet dog.
Accept that these things will happen to you, and you could either let them ruin your day, or you could be thankful for extra sleep, the opportunity to show your professor how respectful and adult-like you are when he turns you away, or a nice shower on a hot walk to class (or at least deodorant).
4. Accept the fact that you will mess up.
Along with the above lessons, accept the fact that you will forget an assignment, you will miss a meeting, you will forget to take that stupid online quiz that's due at midnight (me for the entirety of my time in sociology 101), learn how to make yourself better, and move on. Use a sticky note, an extra alarm, a reminder on your phone, but figure it out and don't worry about it.
5. Accept the fact that your college best friend will not know everything, or really anything, about you, until you tell them.
It is very difficult to transition from being with your high school best friend, who likely has known you since at least middle school, if not before, to someone who you may meet in a dorm or Greek house. You will live with this person and they will see your ups and downs, but they do not know all the things about you like the embarrassing person you were in middle school or that one guy you had a crush on all the way through high school. Realize and appreciate that new friendships require work.
6. For the love of all things good and holy, at least skim the book.
The amount of reading that is listed on the syllabus alone in some of my classes is enough to make me want to drop out, but please do not assume that you can get by without reading like you did in high school. You probably don't have to read all of it, but make sure you read enough of it - because a 42 on your first psych test might be a hard hole to dig out of.
7. Do fun things. Specifically, intramurals.
My freshman year I got stuck on a volleyball team because they needed an extra player and it ended up being one of my favorite times of the week - a time that I was REQUIRED to stop doing homework and go play an active and participatory sport. We ended up winning semi-finals with only five people, one of which was struggling from a very late night out the previous evening. Hey, even if you suck, that's the point.
8. Take at least one road trip during your college career.
Seriously, everyone needs the opportunity to bond with others by cramming people into a car, sleeping on each other's shoulders, navigating with your cell phone loses service, (even though grandpa always lectures me about bringing an atlas, which I can barely fold properly, let alone use) and seeing your gas light come on an hour from the nearest rest stop. It's a good time.
9. Find at least one type of event, sporting or otherwise, that you enjoy watching or doing and go watch it or do it.
It is truly amazing what a sense of school pride does - if you're feeling a little lost on a big campus, it's easy to meet people with common interests if you just start showing up to things you either like to watch or participate in, and then do those things.
10. Do not, if at all possible, burn popcorn in your dorm room.
All those friends we just talked about making in #9? You will no longer have them. Burnt popcorn in a dorm is like a dirty diaper on an airplane. It just lingers.
*Note: If you do find yourself in this situation, put the popcorn in the refrigerator.
11. Germs are everywhere.
I shouldn't even have to say this, but if you drop your toothbrush in the community shower, go buy a new one. That day. Before it's time to brush your teeth again.
12. Embrace the utter chaos that is now your life.
For some people, it's extremely difficult to let go of the scheduled day and predictability of high school and get used to having so much time to yourself and being on your own to get things done- (I am one of those people) but believe me, you will find an independence you never thought you had, capabilities you didn't know existed, an appreciation for your family at home, and, with any luck, a fire to try new things and be prepared for new change ahead.
Sunday, August 16, 2015
Thursday, August 6, 2015
Inside Out [Hong Kong, 2015]
One of the toughest things I think I learned during my time in Hong Kong this week was that things didn't work the way I expected them to. I didn't have culture shock going over to Hong Kong, but I definitely have it coming home. I expected this trip to be easier since I've been there and done it before, but I should have known better. I should have known that God always has big plans when I think things are going to be easy.
Since I've been home, many people that I've seen in the last three days I've been home have approached me excitedly with the phrase "Tell me about your trip!" and as much as I appreciate that - I always find myself at a loss for words. It is easy to think of the fun sightseeing things we did, the funny stories, the embarrassing encounters, the tough language barriers, but it is hard to truly tell them about my trip. About what I did, what I learned, where I really was, but most importantly, where God was.
When the term 'missionary' is deemed upon you, by yourself or others, several stereotypical pictures enter your mind and likely dictate the way you live life for the length of your trip. I carried a backpack everywhere I went. I expected a lot of language barriers, I expected trying new foods, I expected uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and long, tiring days. What I didn't expect, was how much easier it felt to be a missionary in Hong Kong than it would be in my hometown of Topeka or even in Manhattan, Kansas.
As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Manhattan, and I look like those around me. The people in this shop are a combination of students, people here for lunch during their work day, and people who are likely retired and catching up with friends. The diversity of America makes it common to see people of different races and ethnicities in coffee shops, restaurants, shopping malls, and other places, and you probably never give them a second glance. If I were sitting in this same environment in Hong Kong, I would immediately look different because my skin is a different color. I would stand out from the crowd, and I would likely be stared at. We experienced that quite a bit in Hong Kong (Chloe and Izzy can tell you about their experience at the temple we went to where they were asked to take pictures with group after group of people - solely because they looked different than those around them) In Hong Kong, I stood out everywhere I went because I was white, because my choice of clothes was different than the millions of people who seemed to surround me at all times, and because I had frizzy, curly hair instead of dark, straight hair.
When we were in the market, I watched seller after seller try to show me the many different styles of necklaces that are popular in Hong Kong specifically for the Buddhist religion (necklaces that are analagous to a cross for Christianity) hundreds of them lining the walls of the shops. Upon asking, I would find one or two at the end of each row that were crosses - showing the mere unpopularity that it was to be a Christian in Hong Kong. When I wear that cross necklace on the MTR, shopping, out to eat, or even just walking down the street, it makes me different from 80% of the people of Hong Kong because I did not choose the most popular necklace - I chose the one that did not look like everyone else.
This morning, when I woke up, took a shower in my own, warm shower, got dressed in my room larger than some Hong Kong apartments, and put on my silver cross necklace from home, I realized that I look like most of Manhattan - because crosses here are more of a fashion statement than a way of life.
I've heard for years that God made me to be different, that the idea of being a follower is that you are not 'one of this world' and in Hong Kong, I could attest to that. When I was in a temple, I saw people practicing a religion that didn't make any sense to me. I didn't understand the complexity of the worshipping of different gods, offerings, or burning things. But I was a missionary - and I wasn't supposed to fit in.
Upon coming home, I've found myself to almost have reverse culture shock. It's hard to realize that I'm not supposed to fit in here either, but I do, most days. It is easy to let Jesus shine through you when you are the odd one out, the one who looks different, the one who doesn't know what's going on. People think you are interesting, uncommon, and fun, and they want to know about you. It is easy to teach children who are interested in you because your hair is curly and they have never seen curly hair before.
It is hard to come home and teach children who do not find me as interesting because they've seen me before. It is hard to find the patience some days for those children when they have seen hundreds of other teachers that look like me, act like me, and for all intents and purposes, I am one of the crowd. It is hard to let my life live through my actions when I am one of the crowd in America and know that very rarely will people notice me before any other one person around me. Now that I don't live with a mission team in a Christian school anymore, it is hard to need God. Please do not think I am saying that I can handle things on my own - because I am not.
There is a song on the radio right now called "Glow in the Dark" by Jason Gray, and a line in that song says "The more broke you are, the more light shines through." It is 'easier' to need a God when I am alone, when I am the minority, when I am constantly humbled because I can't even talk to those around me. It is easier to need God when I have no idea what I will eat that day that won't make me sick, how I will work when my body feels like it is shutting down, or how I'm supposed to play with four year olds who don't speak English, let alone tell them a Bible story. Once I got home, I found that my to-do list hit me in the face. My graduate school applications are waiting, I am helping my sister get packed to move to school, I need to order my own books, and society tells me that I can essentially do 'this life' on my own. I am excited to start classes, see my friends, and they are already asking about celebrating my upcoming birthday, and to be honest, my daily worries and problems are few and far between - my immediate 'need' for God is very small. It is easier to the missionary in Hong Kong who feels like I can only rely on God to do daily tasks than it is to be the daily missionary in Manhattan, Kansas who finds things occasionally that require God's help, because then I end up having to reconnect with Him first.
In Hong Kong, I learned that it is not hard work as a Christian to stand out - although being an overseas missionary brings challenges that I cannot even fathom, I simply learned that the work becomes harder than I realized when you look and act like everyone else on the outside. I think that the idea of being a missionary at home (reaching people through your chosen profession, and place in life) is the place where an equal amount of work is required - you have to work very hard to be different.
Although I would love to go back to Hong Kong (I left most of my heart there the first and second visits) I cannot see myself ever serving overseas for an extended period of time. I do not think God made me to do that, but I am okay waiting for that instruction if it comes. God taught me over the last few weeks about the importance and difficulty of working for Him when I do not look different or dress differently than those around me - working from the inside out.
Since I've been home, many people that I've seen in the last three days I've been home have approached me excitedly with the phrase "Tell me about your trip!" and as much as I appreciate that - I always find myself at a loss for words. It is easy to think of the fun sightseeing things we did, the funny stories, the embarrassing encounters, the tough language barriers, but it is hard to truly tell them about my trip. About what I did, what I learned, where I really was, but most importantly, where God was.
When the term 'missionary' is deemed upon you, by yourself or others, several stereotypical pictures enter your mind and likely dictate the way you live life for the length of your trip. I carried a backpack everywhere I went. I expected a lot of language barriers, I expected trying new foods, I expected uncomfortable sleeping arrangements and long, tiring days. What I didn't expect, was how much easier it felt to be a missionary in Hong Kong than it would be in my hometown of Topeka or even in Manhattan, Kansas.
As I'm writing this, I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Manhattan, and I look like those around me. The people in this shop are a combination of students, people here for lunch during their work day, and people who are likely retired and catching up with friends. The diversity of America makes it common to see people of different races and ethnicities in coffee shops, restaurants, shopping malls, and other places, and you probably never give them a second glance. If I were sitting in this same environment in Hong Kong, I would immediately look different because my skin is a different color. I would stand out from the crowd, and I would likely be stared at. We experienced that quite a bit in Hong Kong (Chloe and Izzy can tell you about their experience at the temple we went to where they were asked to take pictures with group after group of people - solely because they looked different than those around them) In Hong Kong, I stood out everywhere I went because I was white, because my choice of clothes was different than the millions of people who seemed to surround me at all times, and because I had frizzy, curly hair instead of dark, straight hair.
When we were in the market, I watched seller after seller try to show me the many different styles of necklaces that are popular in Hong Kong specifically for the Buddhist religion (necklaces that are analagous to a cross for Christianity) hundreds of them lining the walls of the shops. Upon asking, I would find one or two at the end of each row that were crosses - showing the mere unpopularity that it was to be a Christian in Hong Kong. When I wear that cross necklace on the MTR, shopping, out to eat, or even just walking down the street, it makes me different from 80% of the people of Hong Kong because I did not choose the most popular necklace - I chose the one that did not look like everyone else.
This morning, when I woke up, took a shower in my own, warm shower, got dressed in my room larger than some Hong Kong apartments, and put on my silver cross necklace from home, I realized that I look like most of Manhattan - because crosses here are more of a fashion statement than a way of life.
I've heard for years that God made me to be different, that the idea of being a follower is that you are not 'one of this world' and in Hong Kong, I could attest to that. When I was in a temple, I saw people practicing a religion that didn't make any sense to me. I didn't understand the complexity of the worshipping of different gods, offerings, or burning things. But I was a missionary - and I wasn't supposed to fit in.
Upon coming home, I've found myself to almost have reverse culture shock. It's hard to realize that I'm not supposed to fit in here either, but I do, most days. It is easy to let Jesus shine through you when you are the odd one out, the one who looks different, the one who doesn't know what's going on. People think you are interesting, uncommon, and fun, and they want to know about you. It is easy to teach children who are interested in you because your hair is curly and they have never seen curly hair before.
It is hard to come home and teach children who do not find me as interesting because they've seen me before. It is hard to find the patience some days for those children when they have seen hundreds of other teachers that look like me, act like me, and for all intents and purposes, I am one of the crowd. It is hard to let my life live through my actions when I am one of the crowd in America and know that very rarely will people notice me before any other one person around me. Now that I don't live with a mission team in a Christian school anymore, it is hard to need God. Please do not think I am saying that I can handle things on my own - because I am not.
There is a song on the radio right now called "Glow in the Dark" by Jason Gray, and a line in that song says "The more broke you are, the more light shines through." It is 'easier' to need a God when I am alone, when I am the minority, when I am constantly humbled because I can't even talk to those around me. It is easier to need God when I have no idea what I will eat that day that won't make me sick, how I will work when my body feels like it is shutting down, or how I'm supposed to play with four year olds who don't speak English, let alone tell them a Bible story. Once I got home, I found that my to-do list hit me in the face. My graduate school applications are waiting, I am helping my sister get packed to move to school, I need to order my own books, and society tells me that I can essentially do 'this life' on my own. I am excited to start classes, see my friends, and they are already asking about celebrating my upcoming birthday, and to be honest, my daily worries and problems are few and far between - my immediate 'need' for God is very small. It is easier to the missionary in Hong Kong who feels like I can only rely on God to do daily tasks than it is to be the daily missionary in Manhattan, Kansas who finds things occasionally that require God's help, because then I end up having to reconnect with Him first.
In Hong Kong, I learned that it is not hard work as a Christian to stand out - although being an overseas missionary brings challenges that I cannot even fathom, I simply learned that the work becomes harder than I realized when you look and act like everyone else on the outside. I think that the idea of being a missionary at home (reaching people through your chosen profession, and place in life) is the place where an equal amount of work is required - you have to work very hard to be different.
Although I would love to go back to Hong Kong (I left most of my heart there the first and second visits) I cannot see myself ever serving overseas for an extended period of time. I do not think God made me to do that, but I am okay waiting for that instruction if it comes. God taught me over the last few weeks about the importance and difficulty of working for Him when I do not look different or dress differently than those around me - working from the inside out.
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