The Semester I Really Learned

I started out with all sorts of ideas about how this semester would carry out. There was a sweet balance of "been here, done this" and "everything's so new" that day I moved myself in for keeps.I wasn't new at this; why, a year before I'd been shaking in my khaki shorts as my family hauled boxes and bags into 315 Riverside East. And still, the idea of living in an apartment with my best friends kept making me smile all day long. It felt so surreal. Words like perfect and freedom and laughter kept slipping themselves into my thoughts. And in the end, it was perfect and free, and people, there was a lot of laughter. But what else there was took me by surprise. It shocked me. It made me angry.

Basically, I'd never experienced the stress that such a large load of school inevitably induces. As the girl who showed up on test day in high school and aced it and somehow found her way into not one but two Freshman Compass classes (read: "Write an essay on the difference between high school and college") her freshman year, things like studying for more than one night before the test were foreign to me. But this year, I had whole weeks where I didn't move from my spot on the couch, weeks where I felt guilty for breaking for dinner because "I have stuff to do!" Weeks where I would find myself, mid-Biology notes, thinking about my Human Development test and suddenly, there would be tears that I would whisk away, hoping none of my roommates caught a glance. Weeks that I took out way too much of that stress on way too many people who never deserved a lick of it. And I regret that.

I pulled out better, shinier grades this semester than I ever have before, which affirms what I knew all along: if I put the work in, I could and would get it done. But I learned that I don't want to live in a world where being destressed is a foreign idea, where, more often than not, I feel guilty for taking dinner breaks. I took that lesson and learned and dropped a class next semester and signed up for yoga. I feel that I am guaranteed a less stressful existence in the start of 2011.

So, that is my spiel about that. What's up next is all the crazy wonderful bits that I got swept up in, as well.

August 2010

moved in, threw Joanna a rockin' Birthday dinner, started class, revisited Summer Snow, learned how to cook black beans

September 2010

Went to the lake for Labor Day 2010 (again), Fell in love with Alabama football (again), suffered Round 1 of tests, found out just how wonderful our balcony really is

 October 2010

Went to Lake Guntersville for Fall Break #1, remembered how liberating it is to (occasionally) skip class, carved pumpkins, became half of a Halloween costume called "Can and A Bowl"

 November 2010

went to an away game (Tennessee), went to the Harry Potter premiere, went to a square dance, went home for Thanksgiving, met my goal of finishing the Harry Potter books

 December 2010

I finished strong. And it was awfully hard to say good-bye.  

 At the end of it all, I learned a lot. I learned that allopatric speciation occurs when one species turns into two because of geographical barriers. I learned that widowed men remarry 5 times more often than women. I learned how to build a wrench out of shapes in a computer program, and I tried to convince everyone that Grendel wasn't really a monster. I learned that most of the time, you get what you put into it, whatever it may be. I learned that productivity comes in all kinds of different ways, and that sometimes, unproductive productivity is more important than dishes or homework. I learned that people are more integral to this life than anything else, save for Jesus, who is a person, anyway. I learned that eating together brings you closer to the people around your table. I learned that sometimes, you have to start the conversation. I learned that at the end of the day, I a bold, and that whoever is loving me has to like that sort of thing. I learned that running away because you're scared is a terrible reason to run. I learned that I'm more of a yogini than a runner, anyway. And in yoga, I learned, you have to breathe through the pain. I learned that a family never means "ideal." Instead, a family means "acceptance" and a family means "selflessness" and a family means "I'll hold your hand" and "Please, don't be perfect." And don't worry, I took that lesson to heart.

Spring 2011? Bring it on. 

In Her Shoes

I learned something this week that changed my perspective, which is always, always welcome: I am a a lot like my grandmother.

See, mine and Nana's relationship hasn't been this typical, easygoing grandchild/grandparent memory-filled, cookie-baking deal. Although, let it be said, that Nana has baked lots of cookies with me. Moreover, it is sort of sticky- when Mom died, lots of people said and did lots of things that caused more and more things to be said and done over time that strained a lot of relationships. And while I can look back in my past and see how very much Nana loves me, it hasn't always felt so evident, because of certain decisions she's made regarding things with which I didn't agree. And granted, I could've (should've) worked harder to stay in touch after I moved in with Chris and Lori, but I didn't and that's that. I'm changing it. Over the past year, I've been rebuilding my relationship with my grandparents, because all of a sudden I woke up and realized that not only did I love them very, very much, but I am faced with a ticking clock: they are 80 years old. I may get 5 more years- ten if I'm lucky. And I don't want to throw those years away on bitterness and misunderstanding when we could be baking cookies and talking about 1949, you know?

So this week, Nana came with me to Atlanta. And all of the times she made me grilled cheese sandwiches and bought me magazines to read with her at night and tucked me onto the couch with cinnamon toast or fill in the blank came flooding back, and all I wanted to do was serve. It's kind of amazing what the Holy Spirit empowers you to do, because I've felt a lot of disliking towards her at times, but it's all gone, and all I could think about was how much I love her. And she loves me, too.

Not only that, but Nana and I are lots and lots alike in ways I've always yearned to relate to someone, ways I always imagined I'd be like my mom. We talked about our obssessive compulsive tendencies, our lack of directional sense, our knee pain that tends to get worse when we climb stairs. We noted a mutual love for flowers and walking and Mexican food. She told me all about who she was when she was 19, and I told her all about who I am at 19. We talked frankly about things we've each done and said in the past, and things that needed to be said now. I told her the truth- I didn't hide things. And in return, she accepted and agreed and told me the truth, too. And I'm sad she had to come home.

This is a lesson that I'm so glad I learned, an obstacle I'm ecsatic to overcome. It's a relationship I've longed to nourish, and now I'm finally saying to heck with holding grudges and keeping my distance and "letting them come to me" and putting in my own efforts. Don't take that to mean I did anything at all, but instead, please understand that Jesus Christ transforms minds, perspectives, hearts. He softens, He heals, He reunites. And as it turns out, Nana and I have more than just our stubborness in common.