the winding road to Dixieland, part two

Vienna, VA >> Summerville, SC

Sunday evening, I drove a short distance from Vienna to Stephens City, VA to spend the night at Mike and Colleen's apartment. Those two are friends from camp; I worked with them back in '06 and we've stayed connected ever since. After catching up for awhile, we watched a great American classic - The Goonies! None of us had seen it before [I am ashamed...don't judge us too harshly for that] and it was better than I ever could have imagined. It only stoked my desire to be a pirate captain. Monday morning after breakfast, I embarked on my last big day of driving.

The first half of Monday's journey took me to Blacksburg, VA, where I visited Erin Balaban [better known in Dewittville, NY as Balaban the Conqueror]. Erin's a friend from camp as well, and we worked together a few years ago. We stood outside a grocery store for the first hour of my visit, since her sorority was collecting items for a local women's shelter. This got pretty entertaining, as we met all sorts of people this way. We met everyone from the super friendly to the outright anti-social, who would hastily pull out their phones and pretend to be in the middle of an important conversation as they practically ran by us into the store. And then there were people in costumes...gotta love Halloween in a college town. After this, we grabbed lunch and caught up, then I hopped back in my hoarder car and gunned it for Asheville, NC.

I got to Asheville without a problem, and I eventually found Becky and Justin's apartment in West Asheville. Besides my GPS's inability to pick up the location of their apartment, as the apartment complex is newer, it was dark. Bad combination.

Becky is one of my best friends from Allegheny, and Justin is her husband of 2+ years! They're pretty great. We grabbed dinner at HomeGrown, a fantastic little restaurant in Asheville, and then I caught up with Becky while cutting out things for her classroom. The next morning, I said goodbye to Becks at 6:30 (Yikes! Yet another reason I couldn't handle being a teacher.), went back to sleep..of course..and ended up leaving late in the morning for downtown Asheville.

There, I met up with Dillon, a friend from this past summer's staff at Mission Meadows. Dillon, a native Alabamian (Alabamer? Alabamen?) moved down to Asheville at the end of the summer. I'm not surprised he likes it there, seeing as he's a natural musician who can play any instrument I've ever seen, and Asheville's a great musical/artsy town. Besides that, Asheville's ridiculously gorgeous. It's up in the mountains of western NC, and it's at a high enough altitude that it gets all four seasons.

After Dillon and I met up, we walked..and we walked..and we walked in search of food. We eventually found a crepe restaurant downtown with some killer sweet tea. Let me say for the record that there are some things the South does better. This list includes (but is not limited to): the art of relaxation, comfort food, overall weather patterns, whiskey, pralines, and keeping cars rust-free. There are many things the South does that's just plain crazy (boiled peanuts anyone?! Siiiick.), but I'm sure I'll get into that another day.

My visit with Dillon ended after that, and I jumped back in my car for the final leg of the trip. I drove from Asheville to Summerville in record time, thanks to some good weather, a speed limit of 70 mph (add this to the list of things the South does better), and an impatience to reach my destination. Not only was I looking forward to seeing my parents, but I was also itching to NOT BE IN MY CAR.

Don't misunderstand me - roadtrips and adventures are still wonderful in my book. However, sitting for hours on end in a hoarder car for nearly a week can make a person long for the end of their journey.

Around 5:30 on Tuesday evening, I rolled into my parents driveway in Suburbia, uh I mean, Summerville, SC. My mom and dad were thrilled to see me, which I suspect is largely due to my status as baby of the family/favorite child.

My roadtrip has officially ended. I am in Dixieland for the next two months, which still blows my mind. As in, what do you do with a two month vacation from Real Life? There will be more on that in following posts, I'm sure. Til then, I will try to settle into my new home in the South.

Go Yankees.

the winding road to Dixieland, part 1

Jamestown, NY >> Vienna, VA

On leaving New York last Thursday, I had two options: 1). put the pedal to the metal and haul it down to South Carolina, or 2). meander slowly down the East Coast, visiting a dozen friends "on the way." This was not a difficult decision. Roadtrips are glorious. That being said, I must admit that it would've been nicer not to have to drag most of my worldly possessions along with me on this trip. My car was rather full, to put it mildly. As in, I felt slightly claustrophobic at times as my stuff hemmed me in on all sides.

However, I wasn't about to let claustrophobia or "unsafe driving conditions" - a.k.a. not being able to see much out the rear window - rain on my parade. Or the fact that I had to do this roadtrip on my own because my stuff took over my car. If you can't fit a friend in the car with you on a roadtrip, I can now testify that visiting 12 people along the way more than makes up for it.

Here are the highlights from my mini-adventure, starting with Thursday morning:

I left late, of course, and drove a little bit faster so I'd be on time for lunch with Todd in Pittsburgh. Todd's a friend from high school, church, and camp, and he's currently getting his Masters of Geniusness from Carnegie Mellon. I managed to get to Pittsburgh on schedule, only to have my GPS spaz out due to Pittsburgh's screwy infrastructure, which made me late for lunch. If someone could let me know what drunken fool designed Pittsburgh's roads and bridges, I'd appreciate it. Anyways, Todd and I met on CMU's campus and had a great lunch at some little cafe/restaurant in CMU's sprawling campus center. Despite my GPS pitching a fit, lunch with Todd was an excellent start to my travels.

Next stop: Gettysburg College. I drove through a persistent rainfall during the four hour trip from Pittsburgh to Gettysburg that afternoon. [Total hours in the car on Thursday=7.] The drive itself was super gorgeous, even with the bad weather. Once I got off the PA Turnpike, I drove on the Lincoln Highway for part of the way to Gettysburg. This highway cuts through some beautiful mountains. As in, let's drive up a mountain! Ok, let's go down. Oh hey, another mountain to climb! Repeat. Driving down the mountains, I kept seeing signs about reducing the gear for your vehicle, which I assumed applied only to truckers. Wrong. I realized near the end of this little roller coaster ride this actually meant cars needed to downshift when going down the mountains, that's how steep it was! I'm lucky my car still has functioning brakes.

I reached Gettysburg in time for dinner with Linnea and Liz. Their college's cafeteria has a gluten-free section, which they were psyched to show me.

SIDENOTE: I love that my friends frequently call or text me when they see the words "gluten-free" plastered on anything. [That statement wasn't even entirely sarcastic. Sometimes it can be endearing.] For any of you out there who are concerned your friends may forget about you, simply get a weird disease and they will surely think of you anytime they come across that disease during their lifetime.

Hanging out with Linnea and Liz on Thursday and Friday was great. I got an exceptional tour of their campus (which included a stop by some famous haunted building I've seen before on the History Channel!), learned all about the Battle of Gettysburg at a museum downtown, had lunch at Gettysburg Eddie's, and toured the battlefield. If you weren't aware, the efforts to preserve and memorialize the battle have been pretty extraordinary. If you haven't visited Gettysburg yet, go! Now!

Actually, you should wait. Wait for Spring. It's about to get uncomfortably cold around those parts.

I left Gettysburg early Friday afternoon for the University of Maryland to see the one and only Clare Bubniak! Clare's a friend from camp; we were on staff together in 2010. We walked around campus, mocked the Occupy Wall Street protest that was taking place in the middle of the quad (about a dozen subdued protesters hanging out in the center of an unquestionably liberal institution - not exactly a striking demonstration), and got coffee, of course. We happened to meet a celebrity while drinking coffee and catching up. That's right, THE University of Maryland mascot came up to us, and we took a picture with.. him? her? It's impossible to tell. I think it was some kind of bird. Maybe not. As you can tell from my stellar description, it was quite unforgettable.

After Clare and I circled the parking garage my hoarder car was parked in, we finally located it and I took off for Vienna, VA. I got there a little over an hour later, and I spent Friday night through Sunday evening with my friend Matt (from Allegheny). Matt was the unofficial fifth roommate in my apartment senior year of college, who'd show up to watch hours of House with us and graciously help us eat food whenever Becky went on baking sprees. Our weekend consisted of: a wine bar (to pretend we're classy grown-ups), the best gelato I've had on this side of the pond, Superhero Movie Marathon Day (when it SNOWED! all day Saturday in the DC area), cigars and scotch, church, and watching the Steelers game over dinner with Ryan Cole at a brewery in DC. Ryan's another Allegheny friend, and will someday be Mayor of Meadville. If I recall correctly, he agreed I could run his campaign.

This concludes part one of my trip. To be continued..

the inevitable goodbye post

I am a New Yorker, born and raised. (This has nothing to do with the NYC New Yorker of course; that's a different brand altogether.)

I was born on Ellis Avenue in Jamestown, NY. I'd show you the house I grew up in if I could; it's still perfect in my mind.

When I was four or five, living at Ellis, my dad taught me how to ride a bike. As soon as I caught on, I rode that bike around and around the block until dusk, when my parents called me inside. They didn't let me cross any streets at first, so I just circled the block, deliriously happy with my first taste of independence and adventure.

I am twenty-four now. I spent my first 18 years in Jamestown and Bemus until I left for college. Many college-bound kids (or young adults?? Whatever fits..) hardly glance back here as they move away for college and then jobs. It's hardly a secret that this area is, and has been, choking economically for a while. It doesn't draw many college grads back.

It drew me back. This area has pulled on my heart since my childhood. It's hard to place a finger on why it has a hold on me. Is it the natural beauty in this region, all the history, the determination of this area to keep struggling through this tough time and not give up, or just the simple fact that this is the community that raised me?

Whatever it was, I've been here for nearly 2 1/2 years since graduating from Allegheny. It's been a fantastic time. I built up a life here. I found my place in the community. I even put together a (very complex, very extended, and very hard to explain) fake family up here, beyond my already existing - and wonderful - real family members. I survived as a quasi grown-up as well, with a job, a (3 minute!) commute, a lunch hour, laundry days, grocery shopping, health insurance, dinner parties...the list of Grown-Up Achievements goes on and on.

All of this in my hometown in New York.

Last night, as the rain pattered on the roof and my car sat in the garage - packed to the hilt and ready for my roadtrip down the East Coast - I searched within me for that four year old Rachel who could not stop grinning as she celebrated her new-found independence by biking around the block again and again.

That thirst for adventure and exploration has never left me. It waxes and wanes, but it's always there. The many hard goodbyes I've gone through over the past week and a half could easily have overwhelmed me with sadness or a sense of bitterness on leaving. My attachment to my New York roots could have disillusioned me as I prepared to go from this place. The monumental changes I'm pushing through could have made me so uncomfortable and agitated that I could've just thrown in the towel and clung to the old, familiar, well-known life I've carved out here.

But there's no joy in any of those options, no adventure, nothing new to learn. My time here is done, and God's beckoning me to other places, other people, another life, a new challenge.

Thank you, New York. Thank you, everyone who remains here and helped make this place home to me. It's still a little surreal that this chapter's over, but it's time for me to set my sails and catch the wind blowing toward my next adventure.

time to pick up a new book

Considering the super short length of my last post, I've decided to step it up and write a bit more about my current state of transition/general upheaval.

I am (more or less) settled in at my fake parents' house in Bemus. My room is packed with all my belongings, which has led to two realizations:

1). I am very thankful to my fake parents for giving me a room that is so large.
2). Regardless of how well I thought I was doing with living simply and not getting bogged down with lots of stuff, I still need to get rid of some things. There is absolutely zero chance at fitting all my things into my car, unless I start strapping stuff to the roof. Maybe the sides too.

It's very strange not to be in the apartment anymore with Laura. I realized that my one year in the apartment is the longest amount of time I've spent in one residence for a long time - since 2005, when I was still in high school, living with my parents. Ever since then, the longest I've lived in a dorm, apartment, house (or camp) has been nine months. I feel a little misplaced and rootless right now. I have already begun focusing more on what's coming up (2 more moves in 3 months - first to Charleston, then Chicago) than what's going on here.

I haven't completely checked out of the present yet, but I can feel the undercurrents of the future pulling me in. I know that if I spend too much time thinking about this place - about my life here - about all I'm leaving behind - I would end up feeling rather uneasy and unhealthily nostalgic.

Most things in my present life have become too easy, too comfortable, too familiar. It's like reading an old, worn-in novel I've read a hundred times before, only there are slight variations thrown in each time I open it and reread it. I get a warm, comfortable feeling while reading it because there are so many parts and characters I love in this novel. I can even read between the lines and predict what's coming on the next page.

Which is part of why I need to go. I need to pick up a new book, meet some new characters, be astonished by plot twists and adventures I never even saw coming. It's strange to leave a place, a life, where things are going well and I've settled into my niche. Leaving when things are difficult hardly even requires common sense; choosing to leave when things are good takes a little bit of irrationality. You're giving up something concrete and established and navigable for a vision, a glimmer of hope, that there's something else out there in the world for you. Something you can't even begin to imagine, but you've somehow been missing that thing all along.

I get to ease into a new life, a new city, a new daily rhythm. Same old me, at least it will be at the start. Parts of me will be reshaped and remolded by my brand new world, and I think that's a good thing. Too much of the same makes things stale or bitter, and I can't stomach either.

Keep me in mind as I get through these next few months. Trading in my old, familiar novel for the newest book in this series is going to be surprisingly difficult sometimes. Remind me that the adventure's worth it in the end and that unless a person chooses to give into fear of the unknown and unfamiliar, it has no hold over them.

Here's to a fearless transition to my next adventure.

and it all falls away

Today, I am 0 days away from moving out of my apartment (as in, I am most likely frantically packing and throwing things into my car as we speak). I am 27 days away from fleeing the North for the remainder of the year. I am (approximately) 91 days away from moving to Chicago to start grad school.

Enough change for you?

I’m on the edge of the abyss right now, with everything that is safe and comfortable and predictable behind me and beneath my feet. Wish me luck as I take a deep breath and jump.

the problem with burning bushes

I have this friend. Let’s call her “Anne,” just for anonymity’s sake.

Saying this summer was a rough one for Anne would be an understatement. This past year, in fact, has been pretty exhausting and frustrating for Anne. One of the most difficult and enduring obstacles throughout the year was a lack of clarity regarding where her life is going.

Everyone wants to know the direction our lives are going and what our purpose is in this vast, complex world. We do all sorts of funny things to try and figure it out. We read books. We try to interpret sloppy tea dregs at the bottom of mugs. We take online quizzes that promise to reveal our dream jobs. We scribble the pros and cons of our various options on handmade charts. We pester the people who are closest to us with “Well…you know me…what do you think I should do?”

And then we look for signs. That’s right. We look for signs to tell us what to do with our lives. I’m not just referring to religious people. Not just the superstitious or spiritualists either. Regardless of our beliefs, our faith, or our lack thereof, we all look for signs when we’ve lost our way and are desperate to learn who we are or why we’re here.

Underneath it all, I think most of us believe our destinies are caught up in something bigger than just ourselves. Regardless of what certain cantankerous philosophers have argued in the past (and present), I find it hard to accept that humans are intended to be solitary creatures who live out their miserable days, hopelessly disconnected from each other and living out a purposeless term of years. My life was and is not an isolated accident. I don’t exist simply to slog my way through a meaningless, short life until one day, my life spark is snuffed out by an accident, illness, or old age.

The truth is, we’re undeniably connected. Our lives are – for better of for worse – interwoven with all sorts of other peoples’ lives. It follows that our purpose is also not isolated; it fits into something beyond itself as well.

Which brings me back to the sign-seeking. We’d love it if some mighty higher power would take half a second of their time to reach down into our humble, mundane world and make it obnoxiously clear as to which direction we should pursue with our lives.

Hey, that’s not such a crazy idea, right? After all, the Holy Spirit settled into a bush in order to communicate with Moses, spontaneously igniting it (and probably raising Moses’ blood pressure significantly). God also struck Paul blind while he was walking down a road in order to get his attention. Very effective.

We joke about wanting a sign like that in our lives. Minus the blindness, of course. And the weird spontaneously burning vegetation, because that’s a definite fire hazard. In fact…don’t send a sign if it will inconvenience or unnerve us in any way…

Here’s the thing. Would you really want a sign if you actually got one? Would you even listen to it? Chances are, you’d sit there second-guessing if it really happened or if it was all in your head. And what if you don’t get the sign when you ask for it? Will you just use that as an excuse for further inaction and internal debate?

Let’s stop all this talk about signs for a minute. You want to know your life’s purpose? Here you go. I’ll hit the basics (take notes, if you’d like):

1. To be loved – by God and people – and love them all back. While you’re at it, try to love yourself too (not in the narcissistic, putting mirrors all over your house to stare at yourself all day kind of way. More like accepting yourself for who you are and not focusing on “fixing” unimportant things that never actually mattered). Your life’s primary purpose never, ever, ever had anything to do with a job title, certain level of income, being the best-looking, most popular, the list goes on and on. Never.

2. Every other part of your purpose flows out of #1. Look for jobs you love. Live in places you love. Find hobbies you love. I know, you’re not always going to be enamored with your circumstances. When your circumstances are making you want to tear your hair out, focus on Purpose #1, keeping your eyes and ears open for the next step to take.

It’s not like God’s sitting up there in heaven, laughing while He makes your life into an impenetrable maze. If you take a moment (or two, or three..) to reflect on who you really are and what you’re genuinely passionate about, you’ll eventually know what to do when you reach the forks in the road.

Or, you can sit on your bum waiting for the bush in your front yard to spontaneously ignite. Your call.

my top 5: things to fear at seminary

There are all sorts of inspirational sayings and quotes about not letting fear cast a shadow on your life or influence your decisions. Sayings like “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself” [FDR]. There are numerous passages in scripture about standing firm against fear of people or things of this world and how God is the only one we should ever fear.

These quotes all sound great, really. Especially when they make it into movies as soundbites you hear while epic music is playing in the background and the hero is saving the day, against all odds.

Funnily enough, when it comes to real life, they don’t hold as much traction. Deep down, we’re all a bunch of scaredy-cats (in one way or another), trying to convince ourselves we have things under control as the world goes spinning by.

We especially feel fear when change is on the horizon. In barely over two months, I’ll be finished with my Americorps position in Jamestown. I’ll spend the rest of the year as a beach bum at my parents’ house in South Carolina. I can honestly say I’m not too afraid of that transition.

However, then I start North Park Seminary in January. New city. New place. New people. The fear associated with those changes are manageable to me. It’s being a student at the Seminary that’s flipping me out a little. After some thought, I’ve identified the top 5 things are making me nervous.

1. Actually being at Seminary

This may sound strange, but bear with me here. Firstly, I’m afraid of getting caught in the bubble that exists at pretty much every college campus or close-knit community. I don’t want my perspective to get so skewed that I stop paying attention to or caring about what’s going on outside of North Park. I definitely don’t want to get so comfortable there that I stop being challenged and lose contact with people who think differently than me.

I’m also nervous about the people at Seminary. I keep thinking they’re going to be wayyy too serious. Working at camp for 4 out of the last 6 summers , plus working with the youth at my church for the last 2 years, has kept me pretty young at heart (a.k.a. immature? That’s a good possibility..). Beyond that, I’ll be one of the younger students at Seminary. I feel like I’ll be laughing inappropriately during class and making jokes about all the wrong things, while my fellow students shake their heads and pray for me to grow up. I’m worried they’re going to try and make every conversation super heavy and deep. I can picture me in the corner, scheming about pranking my next door neighbors or plotting to run away from school on a pirate ship, while the other students are debating various theological doctrines and whatnot. This leads to my next fear, which is…

2. People wondering what on earth I’m doing in Seminary (and how I got in)

Funny thing is, I wouldn’t have guessed I’d end up in Seminary if you’d asked me a few years ago. Plans change. What I want to do with my life hasn’t changed drastically over the last couple of years, but my route to getting there has. I’m OK with that, and I’m OK knowing God’s plan for my life isn’t always going to match up with the ideas I had…but Seminary was kind of a surprise, even for me. If someone who didn’t know me well looked back on what I’ve studied (history, political science, and Spanish at a secular liberal arts school) and what I want to be (namely, that I don’t want to be a pastor at this point), they’d be understandably confused about why I am in Seminary. Some people don’t even think women should be in Seminary.

The reason I’m going back to school and the reason I’m pursuing two Masters Degrees at North Park (Masters of Divinity and Masters of Non-profit Administration) is so I can run a faith-based nonprofit organization one day. There are many other ways to do that beyond the route I’m taking, but I think this dual program between the Business school and Seminary is the best way to prepare me. I’m excited for all that I’ll learn at the Seminary (I get to study Hebrew, Greek, biblical studies courses, church history, and all sorts of things). I just need to keep remembering that despite my youth and the fact I don’t really want to be a pastor – in other words, despite the fact I don’t feel like I am going to fit the mold of a lot of the other students – the things that are different about me are only going to add to the community there.

3. College loans

Finances. Ew.

I am lucky enough to not be under a staggering amount of debt from undergrad, but I still loathe the idea of taking out more loans, even if they’re small ones. Psychologically, it’s painful to go from spending 2+ years (post-graduation from Allegheny) making money to reverting back to taking out college loans.

Technically, this can all be resolved by faking my own death at the end of school. However, that plan seems somewhat complicated and leaves too much room for disaster, so I guess I’ll just have to pay my loans back. Maybe I’ll be done by the time I’m 40 (fingers crossed).

4. Committing to a 4-5 year program

That’s right, you read that correctly. 4-5 YEARS. Do you have any idea how old I’ll be by then?!? 29. 29 years old. 29 times around the sun. 4-5 years is such a long time to be (mostly) in one place, doing (mostly) the same thing. I know I’ll get to leave to do internships, plus I’ll be living in one of the greatest cities in this country, but still…

Commitment is terrifying.

5. Last but not least, Wife-hunters.

If this one doesn’t sound like it’s a legitimate fear, you’ve clearly never met a single Christian guy who is deadset on finding a wife. As fast as possible. Factor in that the guys at Seminary are future pastors (who feel enormous pressure to find a wife before settling down with a congregation), and you should start to feel this fear too. I find it vaguely disturbing that currently my #1 reason I would want to get married soon is so I don’t have to deal with Wife-hunters and their crazy antics. They’re frightening in their single-minded quest to find a Mrs. and start a family.

I’m not anti-marriage or anything, but I don’t think people should get married out of fear that they have to be married by a certain age or life stage. And they definitely shouldn’t be obsessed with finding a spouse. It’ll happen when it happens…there’s no use in wasting the best years of your life scheming various ways to hunt them down and convince them to marry you.


That rounds out my top 5 fears and I think they're pretty legit at this point. It's not like I'm going to let fear stop me from going to North Park - I just think it's better to get my anxiety out into the open so it's not eating at my mind or growing any bigger than it already is. Like any other feeling, fear will fade away. One day, I'm sure I'll look back on this time in my life and not remember why I ever felt any of those fears; they'll probably look ridiculous. That's alright, since there's a little bit of the ridiculous in everything. I just hope I can remember that after I've gone through Seminary.