Boosterrific

“Alright, alright, on the count of three, let’s do the Big World Recess cheer together. Ready? One, two, three!”

We throw our arms out to the side, “Big!”

We make a circle above our heads, “World!”

We bring a fist pump down to our knees, “Recess!”

My pitch, as usual, is about an octave too high, but my enthusiasm is on point. As I close out one of countless team huddles I led this past semester, I am once again reminded how much I love my job at Boosterthon. Everyday the whole grade gathers together to recognize students who earned pledges the night before and to learn a character lesson. As a talent scouting team, we traveled to a different part of the globe every day to meet kid athletes that play with character. 

Once we gathered our scouting report, we contacted Coach Touchdown so we could help him save recess for his poor-sport students.

“Second grade,” I say, hands on my hips, sass in my voice, my facial expression simultaneously playful and scolding. “I know you got more in you than that. Let’s stand on up and try again. Your loudest and proudest, here we go.”

They brim with excitement, their faces redden just a bit, they bend over they are screaming so loud. “BIG WORLD RECESS!!!”

“That’s what I’m talking about! Okay, sit down on those pockets,” I instruct as I fade out the music and bring the hype back down. My voice softens, “Eyes and ears back to your teachers. We’ll see YOU tomorrow!”

When I first decided to move to Houston, I had no idea what I was going to do. I knew about Booster, but I did not know there was a team in Houston until a friend suggested I apply. Even though I warned upfront that I would only be in H-Town for the fall, they hired me. This past semester I was a full-time Program Assistant, and it’s hard to believe my time serving this exceptional company has already come to a close. Boosterthon raises funds for elementary schools by sponsoring fun runs, and leading up to the big day, we do whatever it takes to motivate students to get pledges to help their school. Regular challenges include getting pied in the face, water ballooned, silly strung, duct taped to the wall, and slimed. 

 

Shoutout to my amazing roommate and coworker Tik Tok Taylor in those last two pictures. She is a trooper!

The Incredible Ike, who has biceps the size of Hulk’s, regularly pumps out hundreds of pushups. Usually these nightly challenges are pretty effective, but Boosterthon stands for so much more than impressive financial results. Our mission is to Change the World, and every day, I saw little examples of the impact we make.

It starts with small acts of kindness like showing teachers how much we appreciate them by sticking encouraging Post-It notes on their boxes.

          You Rock! 
          It's a GREAT day to have a great day! 
          You make a difference. 
          Thank you for all you do. 
          Keep it up! 

You come back three months later for a drop by, and those notes are still there. We affirm teachers as much as we can, but it’s also doing the unexpected - delivering 80 special order Sonic drinks for every teacher and making waffles before school. Teachers are always surprised that we’re actually in there with the batter and griddle turning ‘em out. (I’m just thinking, “As opposed to…?”)

It’s things like our give back program, The Great Shoe Take-Off. For every $30 per lap a class earned in pledges, Booster promised to send a pair of shoes around the world to other people that don't have them. We have already sent over 22,000 pairs, and we are only halfway through the school year!

The deepest joy comes from the direct interactions we have with students.

Once after a pep rally a few team members began playing with a special-needs student, passing her one of the Booster prizes - a Big Game soccer ball. She was shy at first, but she began to be more comfortable and eventually began smiling. Twenty minutes later, her teacher told us that it was the first time she had ever seen the girl smile. 

Among many token sayings, my cheerful teammate Tobe the Tiger always throws the condolence, “So much grace, fam” whenever we mess up. One day I got to pass the reminder along. We’re all about high fives at Booster, but sometimes students really put some painful force behind them. When this happens, I gently reprimand them and remind them not to hit too hard. Once, a teacher happened to witness a particularly strong high five. She really lit into the student back in the classroom and forced him to come back and apologize to me. Sweet Gabe. This tough-guy fourth grader was on the brink of tears as he shuffled back into the room. He was deeply remorseful, and I was alarmed. But I reassured him and got to extend a small dose of grace. “Hey, it’s okay buddy! Let it roll off your back. I forgive you, there is grace. Don’t think one more thing of it.”

Everyday during team huddles we celebrate students who got pledges with their families. 

Sweet Caroline shared this story with the team, and it’s one of my favorites:

One student was super mean-spirited to his classmates. Every time we called his name, he stuck his tongue out or yelled, "IN YOUR FACE!" at his friends. One of his best friends, Jack, saw this happen and wanted to do something about it. Instead of being mean back, he went home and asked his mom to help him get pledges to help his school. He told her, "Mom, I want to be the top student in the school so I can show him how to win with a good attitude."  

Last night he called every friend and family member he could think of, and today his name was called. He was the top student in school! When he heard his name he quietly stood without a single mean glance or rude comment to his classmates. He was just excited to help his team reach their goal and send another pair of shoes overseas to a child in need! 

But the biggest prize of all was the smile on his mom's face when she tracked me down to tell me this story. She saw her son set an example of what it means to Play with Humility and wanted to thank me for changing the world in his life. 

Wow! This is one of many Change the World Booster stories, but the significance of our presence and impact really cannot be measured. I served as the Pep Rally DJ at one school and did not return to it until a collection three weeks later. As I walked down the halls in more professional Booster attire, students kept pointing in excitement, greeting me by name. "Look! It's Jungle Jess! She's back!" I was the most surprised of all; I didn't even talk during the Pep Rally, but they remembered me. It was a good reminder of how much these students admire us.

Kids are also downright hilarious. After a cutthroat night of pledging, one set of kindergarteners were kicked off the “Top 3 Grades” Bar Graph we show during team huddles.

“Kindergarteners, where did you go?!” Mighty Makayla asked.

Unable to comprehend beyond the literal, they all chimed in unison, “We’re right here!!”

We both struggled to hold it together through the rest of the huddle.

FaceTimes with Coach Touchdown (e.g. interacting with a scripted recorded video) also cause a lot of confusion. Older students often questioned his “realness.”

“Of COURSE he’s real,” I would say. “We have to FaceTime him because he lives in Atlanta.” Which, you know, is true; I’m sure the Home Office hired some very alive actor this past summer to record our FaceTime reports.

On pep rally days, they also could not fathom how on EARTH my stinky shoe ended up in that small suitcase containing the pledge book. “Jungle Jess, you must be one real prankster!”

Boosterthon was the saving grace of this past fall. It’s the only reason I chose to stay in Houston and stick out those last couple of post-breakup months. The Booster team became my family, and, despite my eagerness to get the heck out of H-Town, I wasn’t ready to leave these fine folks or a job I find so satisfying. They equipped me to be a better servant leader. They valued me as a team member and as a person. They were coworkers, but they were also built in friends and community in a big new city. And alongside them, I got to help change the world.

As I anticipate my transplant across the world and the pursuit of a profession as an educator, I am taking the character plays and world-changer mindset with me. I will Live with Curiosity as I explore as many corners of New Zealand as I can. As I begin student teaching, I will Ride with Confidence by starting small and working my way up to bigger challenges in the classroom. When I become lonely and tired, I will Run with Endurance. Even in the small, everyday things, I want to be a difference maker and a light for Christ. Boosterthon has further prepared me to do so.

My last day Team Houston gave me a frame with everyone's signature inside an outline of the great state of Texas. Rockstars, I will miss you!

#BeatHouston

Seattle with Le Tre Ragazze

I wanted to go to Mexico. 

Well, really, I just wanted to get out of Houston. Following the breakup two months ago, planning weekend trips was my immediate response, my first defense mechanism to ward off loneliness and secure the bandages I had tenderly begun to dress on my wounded heart. It did not matter that there are millions of other people in Houston, that I didn’t have to go out of my way to avoid crossing paths with Dan. The constant geographical reminders of an ex-boyfriend in the same place as me were still painful. I needed to escape my surroundings and stay busy and distracted. Filling up each weekend in my planner with my own adventures seemed like a good remedy.

As I scanned Southwest special offers, a direct flight to the clear water, tropical cocktails, and cheap hostels of Puerto Vallarta seemed awfully enticing. So I texted my Italy study abroad friends and go-to travel companions Tracey and Mariah. Last January le tre ragazze, or "the three girls," as we like to call ourselves, reunited in California for the classic Highway 1 Pacific coast road trip from San Francisco to Los Angeles. Think magical Big Sur sunsets, sketchy camping, and deep conversations that meandered right along with the curving roads on which we drove. Oh, and flirtatious Italian waiters serving on-the-house wine and tiramisu after closing time. It was the kind of trip that could only happen with three 22-year-old females. 

When we studied in Italy together, I realized pretty early on that Mariah and Tracey are two of my soul friends. Our demographic profiles and a lot of our opinions could not contrast more...Mariah the Midwestern humanitarian; Tracey the west coast, city-chic Indonesian; and Jessica, the family-oriented Charlestonian. But we work well together because we share a common care for people and we like exploring new places. These two are fun, but still responsible. They may be set in their beliefs, but they’re still open-minded. They like a plan, but they will be flexible too. Ultimately, Mariah and Tracey are good company, and despite political, religious, and childhood differences, we make a good trio. If anyone would be up for a spontaneous rendezvous, it would be them.

Apparently plane tickets to the tropical weekend paradise I envisioned were a bit steeper from LA and Chicago than from Houston. I got a text from Tracey.

Did you ever have any desire to go to Seattle?

Well no, not really. Like the other half of Seattle’s Vitamin D deficient population, overcast skies and rain make me sad. But it was a city none of us had visited and plane flights were cheap for all of us, so we went for it.

We booked our flights for the weekend of November 13, and my planning skills kicked in full force (Many thanks to those who offered input). I developed a thorough and over-ambitious itinerary for our two and a half days together, even venturing a couple hours away to hike in Olympic National Park and couchsurf at Lonnie’s commune. That surely would have made for a memorable night! But winter storms squashed any big nature excursions; we were stuck in the city with a forecast that even locals deemed gloomy. Still, all of my color-coded map pins and Google doc shares did end up helping us pack a lot in without much stress.

Seattle still had plenty to offer us, rain or shine.

Some Things We Did 

(…And what you should do if you ever spend a weekend in Seattle)

-Walk Along the Waterfront

This city’s heritage and economy is so closely connected to the water. Absorb views of the port, large ships, fishermen and the commanding ferris wheel.

-Kerry Park - By Day and Night

The Space Needle dominates the skyline from this vantage point, and on a very clear day you can see Mt. Rainier towering behind the city. This is one of the best views of the city, and it’s worth seeing it during the day and lit up at night.

-Ride the Ferry

With so much water, it’s only fitting to spend some time on it.

-Bainbridge Island 

Since you’re already on a ferry, go ahead and make your way over to this quaint, slower-paced town. We had the privilege of staying with my friend Jesse. She took us to Blackbird Bakery and Pegasus Coffee, which made for a cozy, relaxing morning. The maple scone we split at the cafe was melt-in-your-mouth status.

-Pikes Place Market

You have not been to Seattle without wandering through this quintessential daily market. It’s very comparable to Granville Island’s Public Market in Vancouver. Don’t plan on eating too much before or after this visit. Sample away to your heart’s content on fruit, jam, nuts, salsa, and honey. And that Greek yogurt. Man oh man. But, you know, be discreet and respectful; take one taste and move on to the next stand. Go ahead and treat yo’self to a memorable artisan craft, warm apple cider, a Grilled Cheese Sandwich from Beecher’s, and a piroshki just next door.

-Chihuly Garden and Glass 

(and the Needle if you like)

I don’t care if you don’t appreciate art or you don’t consider yourself a museum type of person. DO NOT MISS THIS. It was a highlight for us all. Dale Chihuly and his team have worked for decades to bring more beauty to mankind through creative, colorful glassblowing. His exhibits transport you to another realm. They instill awe, they inspire, and you must go.

There is a combo ticket with the Space Needle right next to it. We didn’t go up, but it is one of those Seattle things to do.

-Parks: Carkeek and Discovery

The sun finally came out on Sunday, so to nature we did go! Bright yellow leaves the size of our faces. Acres on acres of walking trails. It just does the soul some good.

-Portage Bay Brunch

Just take note of the chalkboard when you first enter.

You will with the oatmeal cobbler french toast or veggie frittata. Damn.

-Ballard Locks

These are the most utilized locks in the whole country, transporting boats to and from the salt water of the Puget Sound and the fresh water lakes. Regardless of your engineer knowledge, it’s pretty neat to watch them fill up and empty.

-REI

Seattle is where this God-given store was founded! This is a far more important stop than the first Starbucks for any outdoor enthusiast.

-Coffee. And More Coffee.

But speaking of Starbucks, ditch the corporate and go discover some of your favorite new coffee shops. We finished off our time together at Espresso Vivace.

It was a packed, awesome, friend-filled weekend. It felt like studying abroad again, only in America. I’m glad we chose to explore the Pacific Northwest, a corner of the United States I really knew little about. And for November, I found the temperatures to be surprisingly mild. I don’t know if I could deal with the gloomy weather long-term, but Seattle has the rare characteristic of boasting both water and mountains in close proximity. Truly the best of both worlds; I did really like that. Many people have told me that the summers are glorious, and it makes me want to go back when the daylight hours stretch out late into the evening.

As we ambled along a slippery sidewalk Saturday morning, heads hunched over to avoid a perpetual mist in our faces, I joked, “So…remind me why we’re not laying out on a sandy beach again?” Because let’s be real, Seattle is just about as opposite from Mexico as the three of our personalities are from each other. But here’s the thing — I really didn’t care. 

Seattle was fantastic, but what really mattered was that I was with people who knew me and loved me. Particularly right now, that’s all I really need. Our reunion consisted primarily of smothering Tracey in hugs, which she just loves. 

My heart was full.

That night we didn’t have any serendipitous encounters with strangers, and we didn’t end up dancing with Italian waiters. We didn’t go out at all. We just stopped by Trader Joe’s for a few groceries and a couple of bottles of wine. We stayed in at our Air BNB, and we talked as only real friends can. Before bed I pulled out the last pieces of Perugian bacci chocolate kisses Tracey had sent me as a break up condolence. And it was perfect.

When we said goodbye at the end of our Capitalia trip, I did not know the next time we would see each other. Perhaps in New Zealand, or even after that. I certainly did not think it was going to be so soon. But I am grateful. In the wake of losing one friend, I have been reminded of the countless more I still have, including Tracey and Mariah. Being with them in Seattle was just right. Even if it was not Mexico.

Gratitude

Thanksgiving is such a great holiday. There's not any religious controversy, little commercialization...just the gathering of family and friends, good eats, and remembering all of the blessings we have to be grateful for. And though the early settlers celebrating the first harvest did not partake in food-induced afternoon coma or NFL football games, the purpose of Thanksgiving is the same. We approach this holiday with an extra dose of gratitude. It's a good reminder of a posture we can choose not just the fourth Thursday of November, but everyday. 

Beyond material blessings, we can focus on the four things that went wrong in a day, or we can be grateful for the myriad "rights" that operate just fine without us ever noticing. I listened to a podcast a few weeks ago about a man who intentionally started being grateful for everything in his life, including the really arbitrary things. He pushed the elevator button. As the doors opened, he mentally acknowledged his gratitude that they functioned properly. And he did the same thing as he ascended. "Thank you, elevator, for taking me up so quickly and not breaking down." It's silly, and it takes a lot of practice to be that grateful for little things in our lives. But giving thanks is all over the Bible. It aligns with God's character and his desire for us to give him glory.

Grateful people tend to be happier, too. I think it follows that the more we acknowledge everything that we have to be grateful for, the happier our outlook is, no matter our circumstances. Gratitude is a perspective, it's a choice for how to approach how we live.

So today I wrote a Thankful list. The order is not edited. It's a little shameful that "no homework" falls way before "Jesus," but this is the order I brainstormed. I suppose it's a pretty accurate reflection of my priorities and thoughts, skewed as my sinful heart may be.

Much of it is silly. But the items listed are still real, and I still give thanks. Color makes the world brighter, hot cups of tea are one of my small joys of life, and kitchen appliances have revolutionized my ability to store and cook food. 

Happy Thanksgiving. May you find blessings and opportunities for gratitude all around you, this day and always.

Among much else, 

I am thankful for…

the Compton Clan
     Hoffa’s ridiculousness and provision
     Mama’s listening ear
     Georgia’s vivacity
     Rosa Marie’s gentleness. And her style.
     Cain’s humor
extended family
slow days
no homework
rest
feelings
friends - near and far, new and old
Sugah Cain
South Carolina
home
the beach
the lowcountry
Pearl the CRV
plane flights
literature
food and feasts
long walks
sunny days
joy
relationships
breakups
love
redemption
Jesus
the gospel
new days
gifts
affection
FaceTime
Boosterthon
beds
mountain trails
fall leaves
crisp days
mac computers
freedom
America
security
my health
fun trips
hot drinks
bon fires
smiles
warm socks
down coats
Booster Baes
Church
new seasons
New Zealand
callings
passions
abundance
Instagram
outdoor gear
beauty
water
strength
kindness
honesty
waterfalls
mountains
camp
disciplers
disciples
communication
happiness
movies
tennis shoes
contact lenses
makeup
lattes
salad
Scripture
art
ceramics
rainy days
wisdom
peace
that I am not in charge
sisterhood
snuggling
dentists
healthcare
light
encounters that seem serendipitous
remembering all that God has done
the cross
forgiveness
grocery stores
online shopping
2 day shipping
children
the chance to change the world
the chance to make a difference
the fact that individuals matter
hope
dancing
scholarships
exploring
crying
laughing
support
money
color
sweet potato casserole
pets
nalgene bottles
toiletries
all the extra
different cultures
ethnic food
new experiences
changed mindsets
the ability to think
safety
my kindle
journals
my pillow
household appliances
electricity
education
caring people
peanut butter
apples
avocados
guacamole
opinions
long conversations
traveling
massages
charities
free will
the 21st century
my iPhone
wine
beer
margaritas
greek yogurt
encouragement
Facebook
oatmeal
fresh-baked bread
sunrooms
waterfront porches
music
964 Tall Pine Rd
my apartment in Houston
restaurants
second chances
seasons
running
biking
the animal kingdom
justice
hammocks
sunrises
sunsets
memories
courage
lessons learned
stories
testimonies
clean air
lungs
rocking chairs
hymns
contentment

Sovereign

I have always been a planner. My agenda and never-ending checklists are my closest inanimate companions. I like prioritizing my tasks and making the most of my time. It's hard for me to sit down, relax for a half hour, and enjoy a TV show. If I do, you bet "Netflix" will be scrawled on my list, right after, "shower" and "eat dinner." Ha. I think it's that feeling of accomplishment, that I have been productive, even with menial, daily life tasks, that I find so satisfying.  On a larger scale, I like to know where I am headed, and I like to figure out how I am going to get there. But recently, plans haven’t been working out at all the way I thought.

It certainly was not my plan for Dan to break up with me. Even though I knew one of two things could happen - we stay together or break up - I did not envision this season in Houston panning out the way it has. It was not my plan to have to move to a different growth group. I did not plan on making my own autonomous routine in this massive city. It was not my plan to go a different grad school from the one I had mentally set my sights on for the last year. Yet here I am - single, in a new growth group, and committed to the University of Canterbury instead of the University of Otago. 

In regards to my planning tendencies, I have adopted the philosophy of “palms up” over the last few years. When your hands are open and facing up, you hold something, but you also offer it over in surrender. A huge part of my life story is that the Lord replaced a lot of my innate worry with supernatural joy. I am not very high strung; over the years, I have learned to relax and roll with the punches pretty easily. But I still have a Cinderella fit for that Type A glass slipper. I cannot flip an internal switch and adopt some Bohemian lifestyle. It’s just not how I am wired or who I am. Being proactive is a good thing. I think it is okay to have goals and ideas for what I want to do and where I want to be next. I just have to be “palms up” with those plans.

Because, as the book of James teaches, I cannot boast about tomorrow.

Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.”

Though I was submitting my ideal plans to God, trying to have open palms for everything in my life, the reality is that I was starting to hold them too closely. I knew nothing was guaranteed, but I felt pretty secure with my post-graduate two-year plan.

One of the first bible verses I ever memorized was Jeremiah 29:11 - “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” In many ways, I had disregarded that promise, focusing and depending more on my own decisions. As long as they glorified God, I figured, He would be pleased with whatever I do. I think that is true; God does not give us a fixed blue print for the rest of our lives. That would make life pretty boring, and it would retract the necessity of faith. But even without those set instructions, I am learning that He is still in charge.

Given my changed circumstances over the last month, God’s plans are clearly different from my own. And hard as it is to believe it, I know they are also far better. When you’re still suffering from the loss of something good, though, it’s just hard to give it up for an unknown great. But I expectantly anticipate whatever future “greats” those are. Be it boyfriend, education, profession, location… really anything that life throws my way, I am putting my trust fully back in the Lord’s sovereignty.

I am still glad I get to leave in December, but the last month in Houston really hasn’t been all that bad. There is no way around it - breakups just really suck. It is new territory that I don’t know how to navigate; from what I have experienced so far you just have to bear the spikes of pain and sadness until they pass. But the hurting does fade. It is becoming less powerful. Eventually, some beautiful combination of time and Jesus will heal it completely.

Apart from post-break up blues, though, this season has still been really good. This is not my first loop around the one-semester-adventure merry-go-round, and I don't think I'll be settling in to a place longterm anytime soon. Even though I knew I would only be in Houston for the fall, I decided to dive all-in and make the most of my time here. I have not held back because of the brevity of my stay, and now I am reaping the fruit of that attitude. It still amazes me that in such a short amount of time, routine establishes itself. I have only been living in H-Town three months, and it actually feels a little like home. Without even really realizing it, I have a life here. I have community. I am surrounded by new friends that love me and are so fun to be with, and I am rediscovering and embracing the freedom inherent in singleness.

Some of God’s better plans have already begun to reveal themselves, too. Last spring I was satisfied with the idea of being a coffee barista during this stint in Houston. Instead, I ended up working for Boosterthon. Everyday I go to a job that I not only enjoy, but one that spurs on growth, service, and leadership within me. My first growth group was great, but being a part of this second one feels very providential. One of the leaders said they had been praying for one more spiritually mature person to join the group. “At all costs,” she joked. But three weeks late, I roll in, and I am definitely supposed to be there, both investing in and learning from the great folks in that group. The grad school curveball was pretty stressful; I had to choose the University of Canterbury rather than Otago because I was coming down to a time crunch. It turns out Furman, where my sister goes to school, doesn't even have an affiliate study abroad relationship with Otago after all, so Georgia and I would not have been able to live together in New Zealand. UC's program also emphasizes diverse learners, which I have an interest in. And hey, it's still New Zealand! I don't know what this next adventure will be like, but I am excited to embark on it in just a couple months.

Though my time in Houston has not at all been what I thought it would be like, it has not been bad. Hard as it is, it was right for Dan to break up with me, and I am grateful for the life I have established here apart from him. It has reinforced the notion that I really can live anywhere. (After all, it can only go up from Houston, right?! [Sorry Houstonians, I know you love your city.]) No matter where my life journey continues to meander, there will be new people and the promise of community and purpose. I would like to figure out the next steps in my future, but I know I need to let experiences play out for themselves. My plans are not my own. My life is not my own. It is the Lord’s. Even when I don’t understand, He is still sovereign, and I entrust myself to Him.

October Picture Journey

Since my lack of discipline managed to keep me off-the-blog-grid in October, here is a picture update of the last month:

Booster Baes Pumpkin Decorating

Still not fall, but it was 75 degrees. Plus Audrey is one heck of an awesome friend.

I LOVE MY JOB...

Even when I get pied in the face

Weekend jaunt to Dallas. They may not be related by blood, but they're family nonetheless.

Sweet Sarah

Joey Pierce: My dad's Citadel knob's son.

Family Reunion round 2! So grateful for a little bit of fall weather with the Compton Clan

Boosterthon Halloween Costume Party was a blast. 

When your job description includes dancing, and you multiply it by 20 people that also do that, and you take your job's sound system and disco balls for the evening, it's bound to be a good party. These people are my people.

So. Even though life is not at all what I thought it would be, here's to still enjoying this special season and making the most of my last month in Houston!

Heartache

Contrary to my last post only a week ago, living in Houston is not sounding that appealing anymore. Thursday night, Dan broke up with me. Ultimately we’re not equally yoked; his feelings for me are not as strong as mine are for him, and that isn’t fair to either of us.

To say “We need to talk” flew in far left-field, that it threw me for a curve ball, it utterly blind-sided me… all would be understatements. Lord knows I wouldn’t have been publicly writing about how awesome it is to be living in the same city otherwise. It was surreal; as he spoke, it felt like everything was in slow-motion. My thoughts jumped to the conclusion that weeks of off-the-grid separation this past summer at camp brought me to: that if Dan and I ever broke up, I would be okay. But that was theoretical. As it took place I could not really absorb that it was actually happening. I was too shocked for tears  - it was a comically emotionless, cordial conversation, talking out future logistics, and how long he had been thinking about this, and finally verbalizing the primary question that has plagued my internal thoughts the last few months: Why don’t you love me?

Unrequited love is the worst.

I sucked in a big gulp of air. “Well. I don’t really know what else to say…”

Silence.

“I’m gonna go now.”

“Okay.”

Okay?! No this is not okay! What the hell is happening right now?? 

Just like a disastrous tornado materializing out of the abyss, in the course of half an hour, one of the most important people in my life uprooted massive pieces of my heart and left me to sift through the debris and damage.

I need affirmation, and that hadn’t been doled out in abundance. I was more committed, I was all in. I wasn’t ready to get married in the next two years, but I was still more ready than he was. I tried not to base too much of my future on him, but I’m sure I did in my sub-conscience anyway. I verbalized on multiple occasions that sometimes all I could trust in was the reality that we were indeed still dating and hadn’t broken up. That there must be something worth pursuing in this. Evidently it was time to not trust that anymore. Even I knew the contrasting amounts of affection we had toward each other was an issue, but I tried to be as present as possible, to be patient. I figured time would remedy the difference in feelings; it will just take longer for him.

What sucks is that his lack of romantic feelings toward me is really the only major issue I knew of in our relationship. That fact became increasingly difficult to deal with the longer we dated. Unfortunately, it’s a pretty integral problem, and no amount of compatibility and fun times together can overcome it.

I admit that I was too emotionally attached. I did not guard my heart very well. But I can’t help it. I write more on this blog than a solid 99% of people would ever reveal about their thoughts and feelings. It is a direct parallel, though, to the way I also live. I’m not very good at holding back. I’m an open book. I give almost everything my all, be it relationships, work, or hobbies. This is not just a Dan thing. It is simply how I live, who I am, and who I will always be. Most of the time, I think it is a good quality about myself. It allows me to love others well and pursue them intentionally.

But I am currently incurring the negative repercussions for loving with abandon. I loved big, and now I’m hurting equally as badly. Damn it’s painful.

I have watched enough chick-flicks and listened to enough country songs to know that break ups suck. Going through it yourself is another experience entirely. Raw emotion. Vulnerability. All your insides getting thrown in a blender and dumped out. Restless nights and little sleep. Feeling pretty stable, and then, nope, think again, here comes the next contraction of pain, another wave of breakdowns. I was dry-eyed talking to him, but, as I called my two best friends after he left, that did not last long. I cried the next morning on the way to work and in-between some team huddles at school. My mantra for the day was Just a few more hours JComp. Get it together. In an act of the Lord’s providence (and probably well-thought-out timing on Dan’s part), I happened to be going to Greenville to reunite with the Compton Clan for Furman family weekend. The mantra did not work all the way to South Carolina. The tears streamed as I gulped down bland Panda Express vegetables in the airport food court. They streamed harder in the corner of the IAH bathroom. A concerned middle-aged woman came up to me.

“Honey is there anything I can do?”

“Just give me a hug!” I heaved.

She, mother to four daughters, did, holding and consoling me.

“I’ll pray for you on my flight.”

On my own flight, I wanted to send out a PSA to the concerned and curious fellow plane passengers who kept looking behind at me, the girl who couldn’t hold it together: My heart was broken last night, and it’s still very shattered. My apologies for the next two hours of congested nose-blowings and breathless heaves.

There’s been a lot more crying since then too.

I figured the sobs were inevitable, further exacerbated by PMS. Awesome. What I wasn’t prepared for were the physical manifestations of grief - nausea, lack of appetite, an upset stomach, even upchucking in the toilet.

In a way, that’s really what this is, too: grief, which I have been fortunate enough to not have experienced an abundance of in my life. Goodbye man that matters so much to me. Except, oh wait, you’re still alive, you’re twenty minutes from me, and I have to cut you out anyway. And all the people I know through you. Like your family, who I like a lot, and many of the friends you’ve introduced me to. So here we go open heart surgery. 

It’s not just a one-time operation though. Every time I wake up, it’s like the surgeons missed a piece. I re-internalize reality, and the stitches rip back open, just to feel the searing pain in its fullness all over again. Who do I want to seek for support? The very person I cannot. Every time I see something beautiful, like the sunset as I boarded the plane, or hear something funny, who do I want to share it with? The one who has been ripped from me. This hurts so bad! Why Jesus??

Fortunately, there is Jesus. Dan is not my foundation and my center. Christ is. A rudimentary but fundamental lesson I re-learned over the summer at Camp Timberline is that Jesus is Enough. (If you’ve got eight minutes, click the link and watch the YouTube video. It’s worth it.) He is my rock, my salvation, and my hope. He does love me and pursue me, even unto death, and He is good, regardless of circumstance. My takeaway leaving camp and semi-officially entering young adulthood was that Jesus would be faithful, no matter what. He has been. He is. He will continue to be.

He has showered scriptural promises upon me and surrounded me with prayer and support from friends and mentors. In the last forty-eight hours, I have been reminded how abundant those loved ones in my life are. I can only imagine how much more miserable this past weekend would have been without the stronghold and presence of my family anchoring me.

Rennie, a woman I consider to be a second mom, had some of the most helpful wisdom.

Oh Jess… Most of me wants to say how sorry I am…and I am, precious girl…Another part wants to say, good heavens, there is so much ahead of you!!!! Although I know how much you have invested in that relationship, if it’s not time for it to culminate, then take a breath…let it go…You’ll be headed on a great adventure soon, to grad school…to foreign lands…space can be a wonderful thing…for freedom, for focus on what means the most to you. There is such happiness ahead for you Jessica Compton. You are the best, and the best will come to you. Love you.

My mom looked at me squarely this morning and said, “Jessica. You are the same person you have always been. You are going to be okay.” 

As hard as it is to believe them now, I know they are right. I fear the next two and a half months in Houston will be nearly unbearable, but the initial clouds of this breakup are already dissipating to rationale and perspective. There will certainly be very tough days. There will also be new days, though, where I embrace the freedom and autonomy of singleness with a really good relationship under my belt. 

Dan told me Thursday that he had enjoyed all the time we’ve spent together these last 11 months. I agree, it has been great. I am hurting now, but I’m not walking away from this scarred. In my sister’s church this morning, the sermon series they are going through is on dating and marriage (Of course. More tearing up ensued.) The pastor reminded the congregation that dating is not usually for the “one.” It is for exploring the “kind.” It looks like Dan is not the one, but he is the kind of man for me. We had a good relationship, and he is a good person, that I know. But I also know that I yearn for a man to be head over heels for me, to pursue me and protect me and love me. So as painful as it is right now, I am also thankful that Dan first gave us a really good shot, but also had the courage to not lead me on. 

Amidst the heartbreak, I will be entering a period of recovery. I am grateful that I have time to ready myself now, rather than in December when I will be dealing with other transitions. God especially puts us through times of testing when he is preparing to use us for Kingdom building (James 1:2-4). I submit myself to his refining fire for the rest of this season, entering the new year as a shining light for Him. Despite the mess I am now, there will be good and growth that come from this. I will trust that promise.

H-Town Life: The Same Place!

 It never occurred to me that a city could, quite literally, run off of oil. Of course, all major cities consume energy, but Houston, as the hub of the U.S. oil and gas industry, stands apart. My boyfriend Dan is just as cynical toward this mountain-less, adventure-desolate city as he is optimistic about nearly anything else. He instilled a premature prejudice against Houston in me because he dislikes it so much. Forty feet above sea level, the greatest “elevation” gains are fifty-foot overpasses crossing over massive freeways or an elevator to the 75th floor of the JP Morgan Chase Tower. There are not many outdoor outlets, and from Dan’s perspective, that means no fun…just a flat, unendurably hot metropolis full of corporate men enslaved to the grinder city life. Their high salaries and enticing retirement plans have skewed their priorities and enchained most of them to "golden handcuffs." With a serious face and a silly tone, he once told me the only purpose of this place is to poop out lots of money, and it does so well. Everything here — investment, trading, attorneys, entertainment, nonprofit fundraising — it is all irrevocably intertwined with the oil refineries just off the coast. They are the heart, pumping natural gas through sturdy pipelines, the city’s own artificial veins.  

Houston is gargantuan, both in geographic distance and population. It is so large that the word “sprawl” actually originated from its overflowing suburbs, and so massive that it is roughly the same size as the entire island of Oahu, Hawaii. 2.2 million people live here, the most racially diverse and fourth-largest city in the country. Between the square mileage and residents of Houston, traffic is a perpetual nightmare. I have finally mastered driving to the office and Dan's without Google Maps, but I would be hopelessly lost on the roads without the blessings of real-time GPS satellites. Even with Siri kindly directing me, I am so overwhelmed on these freeways that I still regularly miss my exits. Thank goodness for those easily-accessible service and U-turn roads. One should expect to double commute time and anticipate a bumper-to-bumper crawl on six-lane interstates during rush hour. Accident clean ups are so ordinary others are more concerned about getting through it and on their way than the safety of those just hit. 

Despite the low prices at the pump, industries and Fortune 500 companies continue to attract young, bright professionals, allured here by the promise of making more money than they know how to spend. Most of them, however, learn quickly. Though the 5K loop at Memorial Park is about as close as H-Town comes to pleasing outdoor enthusiasts, it is a culinary mecca for foodies and drink connoisseurs. Houstonians eat out more than residents of any other city; streets brim with high-end restaurants and sleek, modern bars.*

Just over a month ago, I moved to this oil metropolis, a place I had only visited a few times before. 

***

I don’t deny it - I am here for the sole purpose of being in the same place as my boyfriend. Let’s preface this whole discussion with the caveat that I never, ever thought I would be “that girl” - the one who bases any big decision on a man. 18 months ago I would have laughed if you told me I would be following a boyfriend anywhere; there were no potential prospects to even refer to with such a title. I — independent, single Jessica Compton — would not-so-subtly roll my eyes and scoff with disgust at the idea of making any life choice based on a dude. That, I'm sure I would say, is lame and desperate. 

Yet here I am. On August 8, I road tripped with my sweet Mama over 1,000 miles from Charleston to Houston and did just that: followed my boyfriend to a city, knowing little more than that it was “really big.” But, as I have written before, this is no schmo-Joe guy. This is Dan Telsey, D-Boy, Dan the Man — Dan my man. (The novelty of saying that still hasn’t worn off, and I don’t expect it will anytime soon.)

Whether it is through his witty sarcasm or goober of a personality, he is the only one who has me in a constant fit of giggles, and his girth of stories and facts keeps conversations interesting. He mastered the art of pushing my (…sundry) buttons early on, but he does so minimally and wisely. His sensitivity allows him to care for me and many others deeply. He believes in the transformative power of the Gospel, he is always ready for an adventure, and his voracious appetite for travel consumed most of his vacation days by March. Most weekends, he is more likely to have boarded an airplane and cleared out of Houston than to have stayed put. 

Growing up, my mom wisely advised my siblings and me to look for a significant other who “sees the best in you, brings out the best in you, and wants the best for you.” Dan does that — he sees the good in me yet spurs me on to the next best version of myself. About one month into dating, I caught him unawares when I assertively proposed the idea of moving to Houston after graduation. Though any big decision nearly paralyzes Dan, after a few days of contemplation, he had the backbone and gumption to welcome me. I plan on attending graduate school in New Zealand beginning in January, and we decided it would be wise to live in the same place prior to that jump across the globe. Neither of us wanted to end up in a two-year long-distance relationship and discover that we did not, as it turned out, want to marry each other after all.

So the majority of my senior year, assuming we were still dating come August, that was my game plan. 

“We’ll take it month by month,” I said once as we talked on the phone last fall.

“Month by month? How about by weeks or days!?” he retorted.

We do operate on different wave lengths - I jump the gun, he trails reluctantly behind; we are both learning lessons from each other in patience and decisiveness. Yet here we are, 11 month-by-months later and still together. After nine official months of long-distance dating, it is a pleasure to replace a video call with the real person.

Unlike Dan, I am not averse to Houston, but I have not developed any particular attachment to it either. It’s the myriad golden moments that are making these months in H-Town enjoyable.

***

Backpack strapped and luggage packed, I readied myself to get in the car, bound for my return flight to Houston from the Philly airport. Days after my move, I flew out to attend a packed wedding weekend celebrating the marriage of Dan’s brother, Max, and his bride Christine. 

It was now Sunday, and I was about to step off the exhausting “Telsey Treadmill of Fun.” I gave Dan a squeeze and pecked him on the lips. I had grown accustomed to the inevitable goodbye at the conclusion of our marathon weekends together, but for the first time, my heart wasn’t aching with dread.

“Whelp, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, and smiled.

He returned the smile and nodded. “Yes, you will indeed.”

Uttering those words was deeply satisfying. Good riddance long distance. For now, anyway.

It is always the lack of something seemingly banal that makes you value it more: the lights when they are low, the sun when it snows (thanks Passenger). Long distance makes me grateful for the simplicity of togetherness. Weekend visits used to be time bombs, and I did not want to waste any moments together without intentional conversation. I am not very comfortable with silence and have not yet fully transitioned out of that mindset, but the pressure is finally off.

We sit together on the couch indian style, computers in our laps. We are both sucked into individual tasks on our laptops. But I am distracted with my own thoughts.

What should I ask him? How can I get to know him better? I need to utilize our time!

But wait. Do I? We are in the same space, and he is not going anywhere. There is no pressing need to speak. Just be.

I let out a contented sigh and keep working. This is normalcy. These moments constitute the majority of one’s life. This is “boring,” unworthy of social media’s portrayal of life awesomeness. We are both here; our knees touch and the silence sits. I suppose this is “hanging out” in its most unexciting form. But the togetherness is enough, a simple thing I do not take for granted.

It is a small sample for what “normal” dating in the same place is like. Other normalcy now includes cooking dinner, attending church together and growing spiritually in the same Bible study, and the convenience of spontaneous rendezvous. Projects at Exxon have just been piled on which will mean less time together. But we're both still here! We're in Houston, and I like it that way. When I think about being separated again come January, my chest already starts to squeeze up. Though that time will come, it is still months away, and I choose to live presently. Dan and I are in the same place right now, so I will appreciate that gift while I have it.

Though Dan will always rag on Houston, I am very happy to call this my temporary home. It is not the city itself, but the people and positive experiences I have had over the last six weeks that make me treasure this special season in H-Town. 

August 8, 2015
Ready for the road trip!

Exploring corners of Houston

...and finding pockets of nature outside of the city when I'm off.
Brazos Bend State Park

Though our typical weekend jaunts continue, 

Philadelphia - Max & Christine's Wedding

Aspen, CO - Maroon Bells 4 Pass Loop Labor Day Weekend

 at least our arrival and departure destinations are the same now.

Houston! Hooray for the same place!!!

P.S.
Dan is only a third of my very fulfilling post-grad life in Houston, but time continues to speed by (it's the end of September?!), and I was getting too overwhelmed to write about all of it. Up next: Boosterific and Roomiez!

*http://www.houstontx.gov/abouthouston/houstonfacts.html