Thankfulness

As I was pondering what to write about for Thanksgiving, a couple things came to my mind. I could write about how every Thanksgiving it takes twenty minutes to explain a simple game like Apples to Apples to my family, or how my grandpa always says in one breath right after prayer, “Please pass the turkey, the gravy, mash potatoes, green beans, sweet potatoes, and salt and pepper,” or how every year my dad tells the dumbest jokes that no one laughs at. Or, I could write a list of all of the things I am thankful for. The list seemed trite, and being in the strange emotional state I am in currently I wasn’t feeling writing about my Thanksgiving traditions. I was going to ‘skip’ this holiday, but all this week during my time of transition and change, there has been a simple thought that has kept me going when I have felt like giving up. And that is what I want to share with you. This story is Thanksgiving in its most simple and pure form. There is no glamor or glitz or turkey or any such thing that you may associate with the holiday, and probably to those high up directors and presidents of the Macy Thanksgiving Day Parade it is silly. But to me, it will always be a special memory and one that will always remind me of the true meaning of being thankful.

Here is how the story began.

Last week was my last week teaching at Roanoke. During big transitions and emotional times of change, there comes a point when you just want it all to be over. It is during these days where the stress is so great and you can’t rely on your feelings because they are so twisted with emotion. My stress level last week was crazy; between packing up my apartment, saying goodbye, planning stuff for my students, packing up the classroom, and so on I was ready to just quit.

I was sad to say goodbye to my students who became such a part of my life. I wanted to give them something special before I left. It wasn’t that I wanted them to always remember me, but I wanted them to know how special and important they are in this crazy world, and to know that even when they don’t feel it, people love them. This group of kids really needed to hear that, especially in today’s world of never feeling good enough. I remembered when I was in fifth grade and my mom, who also was my teacher, made each of the students a frame with a nice note, our picture, and a list of things our fellow students said about us. I still have the frame today. I remember when I got it I did feel special and I still look at it and smile at what my fifth grade classmates thought of me. I decided this was the perfect gift for these students.

Weeks before, I had every kid write something nice about all of their classmates. As I read through their comments I noticed how one little girl who in society’s eyes may not have it all together, the child that gets picked on at school and doesn’t get a lot of support at home, the kind of student you wouldn’t blame for saying nothing but mean things about her classmates because no one is that nice to her anyway. I saw that she wrote the most genuine and sweet things about her classmates, and her very paper was the paper that forced me to finish this project on the nights when I was tired or thought I had better things to do (because, I would tell myself, what 11 year old today wants a frame with compliments on them when I could just give them candy or a McDonalds gift card?).

I did finish the frames, and on my second to last day of teaching I brought them in to hand out to the kids. I was thinking a super lot about them because I was exhausted and had convinced myself that these students would take the frame and vocalize how they would have liked something better from me. Nonetheless, I wanted them to feel special about themselves, even if they acted like they didn’t want them.

I pulled them into our meeting area and had them sit in an oval and I begin my quick 30 second speech about how much I have enjoyed them and how wonderful I think each of them are. I explained how we each have different talents but each of our talents are unique to us. I then went on to say how I could have gotten them candy, but candy doesn’t last and this always will. I ended with the cheesy, but true, statement that if they ever feel like they aren’t good enough or that no one likes them they can look at these. Honestly, I was expecting to see some of them start rolling their eyes or asking if we were done yet, but I got neither responses. They looked at me wide eyed and nodded in agreement, eager to see what I was going to pass out. I pulled out one of the frames and they all gasped as if I was holding up a million dollar check for them to all split. They all began saying, “You did not have to do this for us!” and “We don’t deserve this!” and “We should be buying you gifts!” and “Those look amazing!” I started to smile because their responses caught me off guard.

I began passing out the frames. With each frame being passed, the room grew a little louder with students smiling and laughing and sharing with others what their classmates wrote about them. They were so excited. I think I will always remember that moment when these kids who were proud of themselves and who did feel special. I hope everyone gets to be in a room full of eleven year olds (or at least just a group of people) when you can just feel the joy in the air, and not the joy that they got something materialistic because I feel the joy would not have been there like it was. This joy was of the sort of belonging and love.

But this part of the story is not even what I am focusing on.

After I passed out the frames to every student, someone asked me why there was another frame in my bag. I explained that I had an extra one in case any of their frames broke during the day. And after that, the day went on. I did notice that during Reader’s Workshop some of my students who are always on task were up more than usual, but other than that, the day was like any other. After lunch and recess I taught a short writing lesson and gave them time to write during which I was checking the last of my emails and grading the last of the papers. I turned around and there stood five of my students holding something behind their back. They were all smiling, and I grew suspicious.

Without introduction, they presented me with a frame; the very extra frame I had in my bag. Inside the frame was a very personalized and precious list of why I am special to them. I couldn’t believe it. My students snuck the frame from my bag, collected beautiful thoughts from one another and put it together at recess for me. I couldn’t have been more proud and humbled by their gesture. I felt so undeserving of their sweet words, and it will be something I will always hold dear.

On the top of the frame they wrote, “From your first class.” It filled my heart.

Thanksgiving is such a beautiful time to remember all that we have, and this story will always make me feel thankful for something so much more precious than material goods; the heart of a child and the gift of uplifting words of people who care about you and remind you that you are making a difference even when you think the world is no different because of you. That, to me, is what Thanksgiving is all about.

The Love of the Lord Endures

In all that I have found

Your evidence abounds

I've always sensed your fingerprints

If I just look around

And yet this grand display

Will all soon pass away

So I hold on to mighty truth

That your love is here to stay.

The love of the Lord endures.

The love of the Lord endures.

If there's one thing I can be sure

It's that the love of the Lord endures.

Life has let me down

In wealth joy can't be found

I've looked for peace in all of these

But I have always found

That the love of the Lord endures.

The love of the Lord endures.

If there's one thing I can be sure

It's that the love of the Lord endures.

When I stumble, when I fall

When I'm walking ten feet tall

Your love is there day after day

Even at the worst extreme

Or after I have been redeemed

Your love is there

And it won't let me go

The love of the Lord endures.

The love of the Lord endures.

If there's one thing I can be sure

It's that the love of the Lord endures.

-Joy Williams

I think I listened to that song about 15 times this morning driving to school. This is a big week of saying goodbye and transitioning, and holy cow I didn't think it would be this hard. It's even harder when everyone else is sad. It would be easier if the kids didn't act sad or if the new friends I made weren't so great, or if I wasn't loving every second with my friends down here. For the past four and a half years this has been it, and now that I have to move on and leave my first job and this place that has been home I can't imagine it.

I wish there was an easier way or something to do to make it all better and to make the pain of leaving and the pain of starting totally over go away, but there is no cure. Last week a bunch of us watched a movie at night, and there in the darkness as we were talking the only thing I could think to say was that I was scared. And Megan simply replied, "I know. I am too." I shouldn't be scared, and I don't mean scared of what's going to happen next. I trust that what happens next will be great. I am scared to say goodbye and I am scared to realize that a part of my life is over; it is really the only way I know how to describe it. And maybe sad. And I know someday I will tell my kids about my first teaching job at a little country school built in 1910 when my students went to tractor pulls on the weekends and when my closest friends and I decorated for Christmas too early and drank too much coffee while trying to keep up with life after college and it will be a great distant memory. I am just not ready for it to be a memory yet.

I wish that I didn't have to let go. I wish with everything that I didn't have to say goodbye and it does hurt. That is why this week as I prepare myself for goodbyes to these students, the people I work with, and goodbye (for a time, at least) to Huntington, a place filled with some of my most prized memories and where my life seems to be now, I need to know that through it God's love does endure no matter what.

Today

This morning, Courtney (the wonderful woman I am subbing for and worked with for my student teaching) and her family dedicated their new baby girl at church. They invited their friends and family to join and celebrate after church. This morning was another time when I realize how blessed I am to be here and with these people.

Courtney adopted their newest addition and she is a beautiful little toddler. Seeing and being a part of Courtney’s adoption experience has opened my eyes more than I thought possible. I am so lucky to have seen this process that tests one’s patience and faith. When we were all having dinner after church at their home, Courtney gave us an Orphan Prayer. As I was reading it, I was shocked by the number of orphans there are in the world; children who will never have a family, children who will die of diseases that could be fought if they had attention.

This made me sad, especially when we know how much Jesus loves little children:

Psalm 139:13-16 For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you,when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.

Matthew 18:2-6 And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said, “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. “Whoever receives one such child in my name receives me, but whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea.

Matthew 18:10 See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.

Seeing children as I do every day, and seeing the kids at church this morning and their simple faith and love, it is unbelievable just how many children don’t have homes in the world. And after seeing this adoption process come to what it is now for this family, I have become more and more intrigued with adoption and working with orphans either directly or indirectly.

On a slightly different note, in a few weeks my teaching assignment down here will be up, and Courtney’s time at home with her new baby will end, too. These transitions will be hard for both of us I know, so I guess I am glad I am not alone in it. But, as each day ends, as I make more wonderful memories with my incredible friends, as I develop strong relationships with the students, as I make new friends, as I go to the same church I have gone at through college for yet another time it gets harder and harder thinking about leaving.

I am nervous and sad about leaving. I am trying so hard to understand that the right doors will open; if I am supposed to go back home to GR in a few weeks for good or if I should stay down here for a bit yet then it will happen. But waiting and preparing to say goodbye is so incredibly difficult.

“We need to remember to rely on God in every situation, never trying to ‘make things’ happen in our own strength, but doing our part to persevere, while counting on God to bring the breakthrough we need.”

“Everything God ever asks you to do, even if its difficult, He asks because He has something great in mind for you.”

“God will open and close the doors. Don’t rush your decision. Let God confirm the direction He wants you to go. We need to learn the wisdom of waiting and discerning the will of God.”

“Every beginning is a consequence – every beginning ends something.”

“Moving on is a simple thing, what it leaves behind is hard.”

Peace of Mind and a Hopeful Heart

Tomorrow is November 1. That means that tonight is Halloween and I am missing my mom and dad. I never get homesick, but tonight for some reason I wish I could just run home for dinner and an uplifting conversation. This weekend as my friends and I were celebrating harvest season, I didn’t have time to think about the things that were actually worrying me. Tonight, now that I have had time to breathe, it has hit and I am remembering some Halloweens past when my parents would fill a pumpkin with candy and extra special things and somewhere in that time my mom would start to recite a poem that goes like, “Tonight is the night when dead leaves fly like witches on stitches…” I always loved that poem because it provided just enough eeriness for Halloween and today I read that poem to my class and had them identify all of the literary elements (mom would be so proud). Maybe that is why tonight I wish my parents and I could hang out and maybe drink some apple cider together or something.

Tomorrow being November 1 also means that within four weeks, I will be moving on from my long-term substitute teaching position, and as far as the plan is now, moving home. I wish I could say I was excited, but the fact that tomorrow is November makes me feel something I was hoping I wouldn’t have to feel.

Scared.

I am not scared about getting another job,, because I know one will be provided for me. I am scared of making a wrong choice and never feeling again what I feel now. Do you remember way back in August when I was concerned about getting a job? Well here is something I didn’t tell you. The day after I wrote that post, I was asked to fill this teaching position. I believed God would come through and provide me with something and it came that next day. But the thing was that at first glance, this was not what I had in my plan. I was hoping for something long term and something in a location of my choosing. Moving back down to Huntington was not in my top 10. I overlooked it for a while, and as excited I was at the potential opportunity to work with the wonderful people at this school, I wasn’t sure if this was the job. God never provided me with anything else, so I assumed this is what He wanted me to do. When I first moved back down here at the beginning of August (school down here starts EARLY!), I was still apprehensive. This was my first real adult job and I was back in the middle of cornfields yet again. But something happened that first day. Not only did God show me that He would provide for me in a new situation, but He gave me such complete joy that I didn’t even think was possible.

Before I moved back down here, I was discussing this with someone and I explained how this was just temporary and I would be back in Michigan by Christmas. She smiled as if she knew what God was up to and said, “Erica, this may not be the place you think you want to end up for a few years, but you just never know.” Inside I laughed thinking, “Yeah right.” But I am here tonight to tell you that she was right.

These past few months have been incredible. I fell in love with my job, the people I work with, the kids I teach, and my friends like I never thought possible. Not only have I seen situations during my teaching where I knew I was put here for a reason for someone else, I also have seen that God put me here for my own good, too. I never thought it was possible.

Now, less than four weeks away, I will have to go. I am scared of not being around my best friends. These people have been my roommates, my friends, and my family for several years now, and going through the “adult transition” period has only made us closer and I can’t imagine moving away now. I don’t want to think of what it would be like to not be able to fall asleep on Liz Adam’s couch, talk about relationships around the table, plan trips to Europe (that who knows if we can actually pull off) while watching the Colts and passing out candy to trick-or-treaters or challenging each other with our spiritual lives. I am scared if I leave I won’t ever find this again.

The thought of leaving this classroom of kids breaks my heart. They have become my kids, you know? The worst part is when they come up and ask if I could just stay longer. I am going to miss every single one of them and their childlike laughter yet their adult conversation. I am going to miss how much they make me laugh sometimes and how much they love to talk about World War II for some reason. I am scared that maybe God has another plan for me that doesn’t involve teaching.

After my first week down here I knew this is where I was supposed to be…and where I wanted to be. And now I just ask God, “Why do you have to take it away from me now?” But, just as I was so unsure in August and He provided this, I have to have faith that something else just as wonderful will come and it doesn’t mean that it won’t be hard to transition. I can tell you for sure that this will be the hardest transition I have had to make yet.

Something beautiful about living by your close friends is you can talk about all of these things and you are all in the same boat. We have all sat around talking about what is next. I have told them I am unsure of where to go from here, Grand Rapids or down here? Crazy to think that before I was in college I never thought this would be a problem, but tonight especially it is my problem.

So, I ask that you would pray for me if you think about it…just that I would know where to go. It isn’t that I don’t want to be home with my family, but right now my heart breaks thinking of moving on from here. This crazy place down here that for the past 4 ½ years has been my home, love it and sometimes hate it, is a place I am now afraid of leaving and people I can’t imagine not seeing 4 times a week.

I am just glad that it is up to God. I applied to other jobs in both areas and will just have to trust that wherever God wants me, just like He did with this position, He will put me. And, He will give me strength to say goodbye to my class and prepare me for the next opportunity.

This is a verse from one of my favorite songs. It says,

“Like autumn turns leaves, winter will breathe, cold on our necks, snow in our paths.
Wherever she goes, all that I know about us is that beautiful things never last,
That's why fireflies flash.”

This post-college, first real job part of my life was beautiful and all too soon will end. It was so beautiful and God showed me that when I really do trust Him and obey, amazing things will happen and I have to trust that the end of this beautiful thing doesn’t mean that there won’t be another beautiful thing waiting for me after Thanksgiving. But tonight, I need peace of mind and a hopeful heart.

Story

“I've wondered, though, if one of the reasons we fail to acknowledge the brilliance of life is because we don't want the responsibility inherent in the acknowledgment. We don't want to be characters in a story because characters have to move and breathe and face conflict with courage. And if life isn't remarkable, then we don't have to do any of that; we can be unwilling victims instead of grateful participants.” – Donald Miller

Friday night, Lindsay and Jan met me at my apartment where I let them shower and get ready to go out to dinner and meet some other friends later. The three of us went to this great little Italian restaurant in downtown Fort Wayne where we exchanged stories from our day and shared our newest ambitions. In the middle of our conversations, I again thought that my life would make a great TV show or movie. I brought that up to Jan and Lindsay and they agreed and said they too often thought how much the world would enjoy watching our lives if only someone cared to write our stories down.

It’s not that I think my life is any better than yours or that I am any more exciting than you are. It’s just that I have always thought of my life as a story, playing out act by act; sometimes a comedy, sometimes a tragedy, and sometimes a twisted love story, and always filled with adventure and laughs. I can guarantee your life is like that too if you think about it like that. This is probably the reason I like hanging out with Jan and Linds; they are creative minds born with the passion of a good story and a good cup of coffee. And, if you are Jan, a need to be obsessed with weird things like shoulder pads. If Lindsay and Jan were into computer technology or statistics, I guarantee they would not think of their lives as any sort of a story because people living out that life don’t think that way. But, thank goodness for me, Lindsay is an artist/designer and Jan is into fashion and public relations.

It was kind of a great coincidence that on Friday night we discussed how great of stories our lives are because Sunday morning I borrowed the book A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I remember Brynne telling me I should read it a while ago, and Sunday I saw the book on my friend’s bookshelf in her house and I took it (Sorry, girls!) to read. It caught my attention because it is all about the author, Don Miller, discovering what makes a person’s story, or life, a great one. It is a beautiful book, and I finished it in two days.

He writes that a great character always has conflict and overcomes it. A character is also one who makes a contribution. It got me thinking about my own story and what I was doing to be a great character. There is so much I want to do and so many plans I have for myself, but what exactly have I done to get to some of those plans? I’m not talking about careers, necessarily, but those big contributions; working with a small group of kids, supporting a cause I really believe in, actually writing a real book. Sure, I make plans for them, but sometimes being a great character instead of just being the character that helps the protagonist is hard and scary. But is that a good enough excuse to not try?

Then I got to thinking about the everyday life part of my story. The simple little events that happen every day. These little events that make up an entire life: making coffee in the morning, buying groceries, working and everything else in between. And sure, maybe to everyone else the fact that last week one night Megan, Liz and I watched the Tigers game eating Dairy Queen and talking in dog voices doesn’t mean a whole lot to anyone else. But to me, the night was a part of a chapter in my story that added life and meaning on a Tuesday night in the middle of October. I bet you have stuff like that too, and somehow when you think of it as being a part of a story it makes it all seem so much richer. The little things, maybe even more than the big things, are what make us the characters we are.

One time, a few months ago, I was living out a great and exciting chapter in my story. A chapter I can guarantee you all would love to read. But in the midst of it, I was simply enjoying myself. I wasn’t doing anything bad, I just wasn’t doing anything. There were so many times when I had the opportunity to let others in on understanding the most important character of my story, but I just never got around to it. I didn’t think I should, so I just lived and laughed and never shared who I was at the core. Maybe I knew that it wasn’t really as accepted. Maybe I knew that people may judge when they know you have faith. But, I lived a meaningless chapter there for a bit, and the sad part was that for a while, I didn’t even care. It wasn’t until I was eating dinner with a bunch of people, the same people I didn’t let know I didn’t do some of the things they did because I was a Christian, when I saw a guy around my age sit down alone at another table. When I looked up in the middle of laughing I saw him bow his head and pray. It most definitely was not the ‘cool’ thing to do and most certainly people could see him and would make jokes about him later. It didn’t stop him though. Against the popular thought, he didn’t turn his back on the one character who will always remain a constant in our stories and he didn’t care who saw. Immediately I felt complete and utter shame. My laughing stopped and all I wanted to do was cry. That should have been me and it wasn’t. For the first time in my life I didn’t stand up the way I should have for what I believed and I let a whole chapter of my story write itself. I wondered if that is how Peter felt after he denied Christ 3 times. I knew right then that Jesus was sad and imagining Jesus sad made me want to cry. I went back to my place right after that and did just that and vowed that I would never again hide the fact that the greatest author of my life is Jesus.

I am excited for the day when Jesus and I can sit down and actually talk about the chapters of my life. I can’t wait to ask him why certain things had to happen and hear him explain them to me in an eternal way. I can’t wait to hear him walk me through the parts of my story that were difficult and to see just how much he was with me in those times even when I felt lonely. I can’t wait to hear him explain why I was so blessed to get the people in my life and why I was able to live out these awesome adventures. And I can’t wait to laugh with him over the little things in life like getting Dairy Queen with my friends and to know that even in that small moment, he was there, and he put that little event in for some purpose.

As I was reading this book I came across so many great quotes by Donald Miller. This one caught my attention because so many of my friends and I are at a point where we could go in so many different directions and it is terrifying. This quote speaks so much truth into pressing on through our fear:

“The most often repeated commandment in the Bible is 'Do not fear.' It's in there over two hundred times. That means a couple of things, if you think about it. It means we are going to be afraid, and it means we shouldn't let fear boss us around. Before I realized we were supposed to fight fear, I thought of fear as a subtle suggestion in our subconscious designed to keep us safe, or more important, keep us from getting humiliated. And I guess it serves that purpose. But fear isn't only a guide to keep us safe; it's also a manipulative emotion that can trick us into living a boring life.”

So, in the end, this book encouraged me to continue to make my life meaningful. I want my story to be lived out as one that people would enjoy reading about or enjoying watching a movie on. I think all of our lives could be that way if we lived it out with that in mind. I want to have frames filled with pictures of people I care about displaying memories from great chapters. I want to do more meaningful things and to make a great impact. And someday, I do want to get married and share my life with someone who feels just the way I do because I don’t want to go reading through the chapters of my life someday and wonder what could have been if I would have just given someone or something a chance.

Here is to continuing my story and diving into the challenges and the fears that will make my story a best seller filled with the greatest of characters and in the end understanding that the story isn’t even anything about me but about a much greater one. I think I am onto a pretty good start.

“We live in a world where bad stories are told, stories that teach us life doesn't mean anything and that humanity has no great purpose. It's a good calling, then, to speak a better story. How brightly a better story shines. How easily the world looks to it in wonder. How grateful we are to hear these stories, and how happy it makes us to repeat them.” – Donald Miller

Some Things Never Change

I don’t remember if I ever wrote about the time my roommate, Lindsay, and I drove down a blocked road under construction in the middle of the night during our junior year of college right after we stole a whole plate full of brownies from the Dining Commons. I probably didn’t write about it because to this day my parents still do not know that is how my car got scratched up in the front. But, it is too good of a story to not share with others:

It was a Friday night in November and my three roommates and I were getting ready to go to one of our friend’s birthday parties. Megan and Emily made themselves dinner in our apartment and Lindsay and I decided to go to the DC on campus to eat. While we were eating, we kept eyeing the dessert table. When we were all freshmen we would rally as a group and walk out of the DC with one of the platters of homemade desserts and bring them back to the dorm. This was a job well done because the people working at the DC were usually strict and enjoyed embarrassing you and made you pay extra if you took food out of the DC (I kid you not my friends and I still had one of the DC’s platters in our apartment cupboards this past year). Well, on that particular Friday, Lindsay and I thought it would be a nice touch to take one of the brownie platters and bring them with us that night…I mean, after all, we were going to a birthday party. Besides, we thought it would be pretty awesome to be able to tell people that the two of us alone stole a platter of brownies while the scariest DC worker was there.

So, we quickly mapped out a plan, grabbed the plate of brownies and walked out of the DC casually while tables of freshmen stared at us wondering if they should go tell someone what we were doing. Once we got outside, we ran for dear life to my car. We were laughing and joking about how this night was already promising to be good.

We drove off of campus to meet our friends at Katie’s house for her birthday party. Lindsay called our other roommates to get clear directions, but neither Lindsay or myself really knew where we were headed. What do you do when that happens? Just guess. So, we drove down the dark and bumpy streets of Huntington trying to find State Street (if you know Huntington, you know the roads are crooked, bumpy, and broken). We got to Division Street where we thought we were supposed to turn. Blocking Division Street were two “Road Closed” signs with one gap big enough for my car in between the two. Behind the signs was this street with gaping holes and cones and big metal things sticking up from the ground making it nearly (and I say nearly because of what I am about to tell you next) impossible to drive down.

I don’t know why we did it or what made us think we could do it. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush from the brownie incident, but without any hesitation, we decided to squeeze through the “Road Closed” signs and navigate through the broken down street. Right after my car got through the signs, there was this giant cement block we failed to notice earlier. I went over it and then looked at how long and awful this road looked. “Uhh….Lindsay? I really hope there aren’t any cops around.”

Navigating through that street made me feel like I was playing Mario Cart or something and my car and I were one of the characters. It was terrible scary. Lindsay kept saying things like, “We are almost to the end, keep going, you can do it.” Finally, the end of the road came, but there was another even larger cement block I would have to go over head first. This would surely do some damage. Then Lindsay said, “Oh…I think we now know exactly why this road was closed.”

Right then and there two cop cars pulled out of the Dairy Queen with their lights on. Panic. I’m not going to lie to you here, but a part of me thought about running. Then Lindsay and I in utter nervousness wondered if we should just hit the cement block and try to go forward or try to back ourselves up out of the road and escape. Too late. We were in trouble.

The cop asked what we were up to and Lindsay and I explained that we got lost and were trying to find our friend’s house. He took my license, was gone for what seemed like hours at his car, came back and laughed and said he would just let us go and that he thinks we learned our lesson. He even helped us drive over the giant cement block.

Lindsay and I were scared out of our minds, but it was probably one of the dumbest and funniest times of that year.

Just two weekends ago I really realized that some things just don’t really change. I once heard that you know who your forever friends are when after years have gone by you are still making new memories and not just sitting around remembering the old ones. My friends and I have had some really, really great times in the past. I was always nervous that after college that would be it. Instead I have found, that with these people it is so far from ‘it.’ The times just keep on getting better and better and new memories pile on top of the old ones.

After a two nights of frozen yogurt, strange conversations and shopping, two Sundays ago a bunch of us decided to go to the Pioneer Festival in Huntington. It was a chilly and rainy day, definitely not ideal for an old fashioned festival. Lindsay and I (much like the incident two years ago) rode together to meet our other friends at the festival. On our way there, Lindsay made a wrong turn several times. One of the times we were turning around we did so in a creepy looking driveway with a sign that said ‘No Trespassing.’ But, I think you know by now that signs mean nothing to Lindsay and I. Of course, there was a scary man in the barn who came out and gave us a look that made us crouch as low as we could in our seats and speed off in the right direction. Then, when we got to the festival, we parked in a no parking zone and after the festival could not find her car until 15 minutes later. Oops.

But during that ride and the couple hours spent drinking cider, petting gross camels and singing along with an old man playing the ukulele, I think we all laughed so hard we couldn’t breathe. This was not the first time these last few months that has happened, but during that day spent in a muddy park walking around people dressed up like pioneers with some of my best friends in the world, I realized that some things never change: we are still crazy and we are still making great memories.

(And, I know you are all dying to hear about this past weekend...don't worry I will post again soon!)

Small Town, USA

When I told some of my friends and family from ‘back home,’ as in Grand Rapids, that I would be moving back down to Indiana in August, they were thinking the same thing I was. Location was not first choice. Don’t get me wrong, I would give anything to work at this elementary school, and I was thrilled to be able to be with those same people who I student taught with, but small town Indiana was just the place I was so excited to get out of in May.

You see, Indiana is nothing like Grand Rapids; nothing. There is no beach, the culture is way different, and let’s just say I learned quickly how Amish do what they do and what a combine was during my freshman year. Different. After college, I never in a million years would have guessed I would be back down here, but isn’t that always how it goes? Suddenly this fall, I have at least 100 reason why (yes, I am actually saying this…) I enjoy Huntington County/Allen County and this good old small town Indiana life.

I guess it was about two and a half weeks ago that I realized it. Teaching was going great, and seeing my best friends on a weekly basis was not half bad, either. But, it still wasn’t Michigan. My drive to school in the mornings still consisted of passing by cornfields and passing slow moving tractors when I had to go down the country road because a train was passing by on the main road. Great for college life, but for post college life? Nah…I always thought I would be somewhere else. But on that morning, the air was crisp, it was a Friday, and I was bringing apples to my class to celebrate Roanoke’s (population SMALL) Fall Festival that weekend. For the first time, at least in a while, I really embraced this Indiana culture. To my right and left there were harvested cornfields, and flat as they may be, they were beautiful. Behind me was the most beautiful sunrise I could imagine; the kind that truly made you excited to be alive. And ahead of me was the precious little town of Roanoke where everyone knows everyone and the upcoming tractor pull was the biggest current event of the month. Right as it hit me that I actually may be enjoying this scenery, this song came on (it’s weird how that happens, huh?). It came on as I was flipping stations, and honestly, I began listening to it because I like to make fun of my friend, Lindsay, who has grown up a farm girl her whole life. Here are some of the verses:

Mailbox at the end of a dirt road
Hiding a sign on the Side of a silo
Old dog on a grain truck flat bed
Power lines cut across the sunset
Running from the highway to the house

Ain't nothing but cornfields
Stretching out as far as you can see
Up ahead behind and in between

Ain't nothing but cornfields
the turn road where I first tasted whiskey
Is the same place Mary more than kissed me

Ain't nothing but cornfields
Stretching out as far as you can see
Up ahead behind and in between

Ain't nothing but a half-ton town
Dusty main street and a flashing light
Anybody who's just passing by

Ain't nothing but cornfields

I used to sit out on the road side
Dreaming and thinking
Watch the headlights fly by
Without even blinking
And stare off at the sunset and think about leaving
but I never did
No, I never did
Yeah, this is who I am

As the song ended I realized that cornfields and small town life is not who I am deep down, but it is a part of College Erica, and Fall/Winter 2011 Erica, and since that moment, there is no other place I would rather be than in Small Town, USA.