A Valuable Letter

Words. They are so powerful, so permanent. Nouns and verbs and adjectives strung together that do so much more than just make grammatically correct sentences.Words make art. And while they can be lyrical or literary, I really value the loving ones. For the last few years, I've held on to any note or letter that someone writes me to remember all of the people that care for and value me somehow, who took a few minutes to throw a few special words my way. As I pulled out the expanding Five-Star Spiral where I glue them all to add a couple more lying about, I stumbled upon a longer one tucked in the manila divider. In a classic, carelessly perfect script was a letter from one of my best friends, Lizzy, the September after we had worked together at camp in 2012.

After that summer of community and joy rooted in Christ, I had a 24-hour stress breakdown within the first three weeks of returning to school, and this letter arrived shortly afterward. Two years later, as senior year draws nearer and those same anxious feelings of over-commitment begin to simmer in my gut, Lizzy's words are providing renewed affirmation of how I ought to live, particularly when I am at school -- not in the suffocating confinement of achievement and people-pleasing, but in the freedom, confidence, and peace of the life Jesus already provides. It was such a good reminder for me that I wanted to share parts of it here. Perhaps it offers some encouragement for you, too. Thanks, Lizzy. Your words did, and still do, mean more than you know.

Jessica,

I'm so thankful for a friend to be writing to right now. I'm really in a state of praise for a moment to just be restful and not feeling the busy-ness that has had me so worked up lately. I don't want to flaunt that, though, I know you might easily be in a place of stress with a laundry list of things to get done. You're good at it though Jessica, you are good at using your time in the best way, so don't fear that. My heart for you is just wanting you to feel at peace no matter how crazy your surroundings are...

We have an omnipresent God who can be your refuge. PRAISE! There is a truth that the Lord has been teaching me for a while now: that he is in everything at all times, waiting for me to call on him. I guess it's so elementary, but really understanding that God's presence doesn't change from the times I wake up and have quiet time to the middle of the day when I'm trying to find a spare second to do homework, edit photos, and shove a bite of food in my mouth. Even in the latter, I shouldn't have to worry about how God can "fit" into my day, because he's there, doing the whole routine with me! and you!...

I just want you to know how much you are loved and that I look forward to doing life with you for a long time...Keep serving and loving and doing all the great things you're doing that are so pleasing to Him.

With love,
Lizzy

Back on the Trail

I turned the calendar to July, and arrows spearheaded through the neat seven-block rows making up each week of the month...friends making true on their promises to come see for themselves how awesome Charleston is, a week of wedding festivities, the annual Compton family adventure. And then boom. In a hurricane of friends and fun, July was gone. With the start of August the end wraps up, creeping perilously close to the daunting date of returning to academia.

WHEN would I go backpack and third wheel my favorite married couple? Looking back at June, it seemed like I had squandered the month away (in some ways I did. I'm okay with that now, but those dog days demand another post entirely, and I hope to write it soon). After I relinquished my dream of backpacking half the AT this summer, I contacted a few potential people who I thought would be willing to hit the trails with me on individual trips. Wesley was one, and man was that an awesome start to the month of May. The lovely newlyweds Hannah and Bennett Dixon were on my hit list also. If ever there were soul mates, Hannah and Bennett are them. Having graduated from Furman and UNC, they're basically intelligent granola-ey, Jesus-loving ultra-bike riders who complement each other perfectly. Their spontaneity keeps it interesting, and they're always down for some fun. Bennett's hair was pretty scruffy for quite some time, and his bandanna and plastic orange juice seal ring have long been his signature accessories. Last summer I helped convince him to cut his hair to a more presentable length, and Mama did the honors. He looked gooood.

Don't let the smile fool you - I have never seen anyone so despondent. It was like we cut out a part of his identity, which, I guess we had. He came around, though, and has been keeping it trimmed even since. With his side part and thick beard, his resemblance to a Civil War soldier is striking.

I worked with Hannah at camp several summers ago. She was known in college, as the girl with the wild-but-beautiful golden hair who ate a garden patch of vegetables in the DH everyday. She also wore Chacos during her wedding ceremony, just to give you an idea of the down-to-earth flower child we're talking about here. This summer, Hannah and Bennett are living in a small mountain cabin out in the middle of nowhere, serving as the rangers of land around Tuckasegee. Yeah, I hadn't heard of it either. Since they're near tons of trails anyway, they said I was welcome anytime this summer, just touch base and we would figure something out.

Hannah and Bennett don't have cell phone reception unless they go into town. Oh, and one of them also lost a phone, so they have been sharing the other's since May. I wasn't sure if I would be able to reach them or if they would be free, but as I surveyed my calendar, there was a small gap of free time this coming week so I gave it a shot. It took about 48 hours to get a response, but they're expecting me July 9-11! This is our texting conversation as we tried to figure out some logistics

.Oh, Bennett. We are headed to Panthertown Valley, in a three person tent, I'd like to add. And yes, that is where I went on my first backpacking trip in eighth grade and ended up lost on some abandoned logging road. They say the maps have improved since then, and with friends that know the area so well, hopefully all I'll have to worry about are the unusually high number of sunbathing rattle snakes in the area and some making out love birds. At this point in my life, my third-wheeling skills are pretty fine tuned, so I think I can handle it :-).

Anyway, since I'm going up there, I figured I should make the most of my time. I will miss our annual Cove Creek Camping trip this summer, and I need a North Carolina mountain fill; my legs crave an upward climb, my lungs yearn for a few crisp evenings, and my soul starves for some genuine time with the Lord.  After a bit of research I decided to head up to Clifside Lake and Van Hook Glade for some easy afternoon hikes and safe camping. Wednesday morning I'm planning on hiking Yellow Mountain Trail in the Highlands Ranger District before meeting up with the dream team.

In an increasingly usual fashion, I just figured all this out, so it hasn't quite gotten the Mama stamp of approval. I so easily could have stayed in Charleston and waltzed through a few days without ceremony; between my TESOL class and applications, there is always something to be done. But adventures are important, too. They require breaking up the arrows in the calendar, stepping away from the craziness of everyday life, sacrificing time that could be spent earning money, and going for it. Adventures keep us from living through a never-ending daze. They wake us up the way a dumped bucket of ice-cold water does. Adventures reconnect us with both our fears and our passions. They're worth it, and I'm excited for this one.

P.S.
Apparently Cain is coming now! Yay for brother-sister time! Woohoo!

Are We All Animals?

Last night I had the great pleasure of attending a John Mark McMillan concert.

 I like John Mark; he's a musical and lyrical genius, but his style has changed a lot since the first concert I saw of his back in tenth grade. For me, the most entertaining part of the night was witnessing my friend Thomas. John Mark is one of his favorite artists, and he and his brother Jenks stood front and center, just below John Mark's towering stature. 

The one in the plaid with his mouth wide open.

He looked like a kid on Christmas day. Or a tween who just got Taylor Swift's autograph. Maybe it was a mixture of the two.

Thomas belted every word to every song. That is, when he wasn't dumbstruck. Or so in awe that he covered his face and looked up again just to make sure it was all real.

I could not stop laughing. But this is all just a funny side note to a very good night.

John Mark's tour is called "Are We All Animals?". Before singing Borderland, he posed the tour title question to us. If the end of the world was happening, do you think you would band together and support one another, or would you lie, cheat, kill - do whatever it takes - to ensure that you make it out alright? John Mark sees, and lives in, both camps. I think most of us do. We are innately selfish creatures. We can act like animals - unthinking, instinctive, just trying to survive. But we also have a great capacity for sacrifice, for community, for love. 

When it comes down to it, the question is: 

Are you going to survive, or are you going to love?

 This is a very real, very daily choice, and it's hard. So often I find myself in the selfish, survivalist camp. Cain regularly asks "If I wanna" give him a back massage, posing it as an ideal option, rather than a request. It's never a convenient time (No I don't want to! Nothing has changed in the last 24 hours since you last asked me!). It's hard to love other people, especially to love those you're not sure love you back. There is a great risk to it, too. As C.S. Lewis says, 

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

Vulnerability increases the risk to be hurt. I don't like to have my heart wrung. I've never really had it broken; I've given it to those I trust, and I've been hurt a little bit. But I have been playing it safe. Sure, even if I don't give Cain a massage, I'm pretty good at loving my family and close friends. Most people are good at that. But who are all the people I am not loving? How do I turn my gaze away from myself, moving it upward and outward? How could I love more?

A verse in Borderland goes:

Are we all animals?
Are we all animals sharpening
Our teeth and claws?
Stocking up on cannonballs
Living like nobody knows
They can’t hold on to love
And live by the law, the law of the jungle

John Mark concluded that we're not going to survive, so we might as well love. Jesus gave us the choice to follow Him and to love as he does. Fortunately, with his resurrection, he also gave us grace when we fail. So we keep trying to love. When we do, we become so much more than animals. 

Return to Roanoke

I’ve had some important revelations lately.

1.  My first year of college would have been hard no matter where I went to school*, because I was sheltered and needed to learn to live on my own. It just so happens that freshman year was at Roanoke, so bad associations were built from the beginning.
2. I have grown and developed a lot in the last two years, and – get this – I AM STOKED TO RETURN TO ROANOKE!!! Can we just get a few really passionate hoorays over that, because it is a miracle in itself.

How did all of this come about? A few weeks ago, I headed down to the University of Richmond for the weekend and reunited with Abby, my roommate and soul sister from Italy last semester. Our Sunday afternoon together was one of those unbelievably perfect spring days – not an ounce of humidity, the perfect dose of sunshine, and the fancy free feeling that only a trashed to-do list brings. Throwing the Frisbee, an a capella group practicing fifty yards away, the whole scene felt fake. But real it was; the stereotypical college brochures of pristine campuses and a group of diverse, smiling students that flooded my mailbox toward the end of high school came to life before me.

After a few months of my “grown-up” life in DC, with grocery shopping and cooking and commuting and eight hours in front of sedentary computer use, my outlook on college began to shift on U of R’s back quad.  I hadn’t been on a campus in nearly a year, and I realized what a privilege it is to be in college, particularly at a small, liberal arts school like Richmond or Roanoke. Returning the Frisbee to Abby, it was like I relinquished the negative feelings I’ve held against Roanoke for the past two years – the stress of piling on classes and striving for As, of hundreds of pages of reading and long nights cranking out papers, the deep loneliness of friends two states away. It wasn’t all bad, but something isn’t right when you dread returning to school after every break.

Throwing that Frisbee without any lingering papers or deadlines, though, I realized just how awesome and easy a college student’s life is. Not only do I have three delicious meals provided for me every day, but it’s my job to learn. Sure, it can be stressful and challenging. It certainly stretches one’s abilities, but that’s far better than mindless monotony. I get to go to class. I’m required to dig into questions through deeper research. I have countless professors who know me personally and care for me. Everything is in one spot. We’re showered with opportunities to attend lectures and participate in fun, free weekend activities. I’m encouraged to join clubs I like and spend time with friends. What a life!

The night before, we stopped by a frat party for a few minutes*. I’m comfortable enough in these environments now, but I certainly wasn’t comfortable with sticky, beer-spilled floors and hammered people as an impressionable 18-year-old. I steered far clear and never even went to one party freshman year. Inevitably, a divide developed between my classmates and me freshman year, and I was labelled the goody-good, albeit silently and without hostility. I’m still good, but I’m also 21, and alcohol and Greek life don’t scare me like they used to.

Nor do Yankees. While we’re at it, let’s just lay it all out on the table. Richmond and Roanoke’s student body both have a strong draw from New England. Few people say “y’all” and even fewer hold the door. I have amazing friends at home, and I had a tough time connecting with people who held different values and came from a variety of backgrounds freshman year. After my time in Cambodia and Italy, anyone who is American seems like me. The differences just aren’t that significant anymore.

After a few weeks to digest the realizations I had in Richmond, I made it down to Roanoke this past weekend, primarily to visit my best friend Kayla. Sadly, Kayla is a senior and I won’t have her around next year, but I’m still looking forward to returning for one more year of learning. My visit was kind of a litmus test to prove if the lessons from Richmond held true, and indeed they did. I have never been more excited to eat the prepared endless supplies of food brunch offered in Commons – Omelettes! Bagels! Waffles! A salad bar!!

There was also a folk duo playing that evening (one of hundreds of events sponsored by the school), and Saturday night I danced for hours downtown at a live performance of Folk Soul Revival. Top that off with a long hike, and I was reminded of one of the main reasons I chose Roanoke to begin with – it has the rare combination of a thriving city and the backwoods draw of Appalachian Mountain culture and adventure. Next year I will be setting aside the homework for the festivals and trails. I want to be Contra dancing, flat footing and enjoying bluegrass folk at its finest, and also mountain biking, white water rafting, skiing, backpacking, and rock climbing every chance I get.

Even though Kayla won’t be around, I still have plenty of community at Roanoke. I saw loads of friends, worshiped at Restoration, and hung out with my favorite adopted family, the Yertons.

By the grace of God and a lot of growing experiences, I will be returning to Roanoke as a transformed individual this fall. I am so thankful for my professional DC experience, and I'm thankful it's not over yet, but I have the rest of my life to be a grown up. I have one more year to be in college, and nothing – not a heavy class load, not an Honor’s thesis, not the loss of a best friend’s presence – is going to stop me from appreciating every moment.

---

*With the exception of perhaps Clemson, where I likely would’ve stayed in a comfortable bubble

**Disclaimer: I write this to be honest and also prove a point, but I’d like to throw out that this was officially only the second frat party I’ve been to in my three years as a college student. I’ve decided this is a good thing. If you are a senior in high school, I strongly recommend that you check it out from the very beginning of college, realize that your time is likely better spent elsewhere, and revert to movies and slumber parties on a calm Saturday night, confident in your weekend choices.

That's a lot of class time and a LOT of papers. But I get to be a student.

Folk Duo Friday night

Look at all those things happening at Roanoke!

Kayla, one of the best gals around

WHAT?!! Tinker Cliffs and the Shenandoah Valley

St. Patty's Day festivities

Meet Eric the bagpipe player. One of our goals was to take a picture with a man wearing a kilt. Success!

Folk Soul Revival

BRUNCH!

Love this church

Tessa Yerton is the cutest. Nothing like a family away from home.

Friends in Budapest

“Paris and London are sweet and I'd go there, but they aren't my number one destinations. Remote islands in Greece were sick, Hungary, Poland, Belgium were all amazing, so go to the big places just to go but if you are centered around those you are doing it wrong.”

One of my friends lived in Italy for a couple of years, and we began discussing where I should go during my time abroad well before I ever hopped on the plane. After he sent me this advice, Budapes(“h”)t, the capital of Hungary, was high on my travel list. Some classmates visited over fall break and raved. Instead of feasting at Sugah Cain, I packed all of my warm clothes and thanked God for my many blessings on a night plane from Rome to Budapest.

As usual, my friend Alea and I endured my rite of entry into any new place by getting thoroughly lost and walking all over the city. As we meandered, we admired the elaborate Art Nouveau facades on both average apartments and bank buildings alike. We also had a blast enjoying the unexpected Christmas spirit here – cold weather, decorative lights, chimney cake (basically fried bread) and mulled wine are a beautiful combination.

Chimney Cake = yummmm

I will always remember my weekend in Budapest, but it won’t be because of Hero’s Square or the Opera House or the shoe memorial for the Jews of WWII.

3rd Largest Parliament in the World

I tired of sight-seeing about halfway through the semester, and I have learned that it just isn’t what makes a trip. Rather than the tourist stuff, I will remember my last trip of the semester because of the great people we met there.

Jonah

As I took my first bite of hearty goulash soup, I heard an American accent ordering at the table adjacent to us. I glanced over to see an attractive young man sitting by himself. If you know me, you know strangers, especially Americans in foreign countries, don’t stay that way for long, and Jonah was no exception. A native of Los Angeles, he works in the entertainment business – writing, acting, singing, producing. He can do it all. He was traveling with his friend, but he had the last day to himself. After lunch, Jonah invited us to continue exploring Budapest with him, and we accepted the offer.

Jonah was a solid six years older than us with a real career, but we spent the whole day together and then met back up for a late dinner. When I think about hanging out with fourteen-year olds, I realize just how big that age gap and lifestyle difference is. His humor is dry, but it’s also witty. Our company may have been unusual for Jonah, but I think he really did enjoy the day with us. I certainly did. 

Tess
We returned to the hostel to meet a happy blonde chilling in bed with a backpack significantly larger than her small frame. Tess is 18, from Sydney, Australia. After saving up her money for a year, she is now on a gap year, traveling through all of Eastern and Western Europe. I was impressed. She had been backpacking with another friend for a while, but they had parted ways, and she was on her own now. Tess was supposed to leave the next day, but after talking together and planning on breakfast the next morning, she decided to stay another night and spent the whole following day with us. She even motivated me to go on a run with her around the loop on Margaret’s Island, a pinch of land in the middle of the Danube River. She had a kind, peaceful demeanor, and it is obvious Tess is growing up a lot. She went to an all-girl’s private school for six years, and she is over that culture. I think this year of traveling is helping her find her way.

Rebecca

When we returned to the hostel the next night, we were greeted by our fourth roommate. Also from Sydney, Rebecca graduated from Uni, got a big girl PR job for a year, and then set off to backpack the world by herself. She has already been gone for seven months, and has several more months to go. What an experience. I had so many questions for her, all beating around the main question I had cycling through my head – Can I just be you in two years? We shall see what is to come.

In less than a week, both Tess and Rebecca are going to meet up with us back in Perugia before we return home! I am happy to be able to offer my hospitality and show off an authentic medieval Italian town, but I am more excited to already reunite with friends I did not know less than a week ago.

The cool thing about the people we met in Budapest is that you know you automatically have something in common. Jonah, Tess and Rebecca were a little off the tourist track, too. Whatever brought them there, they carry some sense of adventure, the curiosity to explore the less known. The stranger the place, the more different the visitor will be, and the more likely one is to meet other travelers.  That formula creates something innate and easily ignited – the potential for great friendship.

Golden Friends

I only had one prayer while I prepared for Italy.

Lord, I can spend a semester by myself. I’m independent and I would really be able to focus on You, but I’d really like one good friend. I don’t have to connect with anyone else, they can all be wild partiers, but please, give me one companion that I am totally comfortable with. Who will pray and laugh and travel and eat with me.

Jesus loves to give good gifts to His children, and time and again, I have experienced His blessings. This request was no exception.  The very first night, before we even moved into our apartments, I announced I was going on a walk and invited anyone to come along. They declined, having just returned from their own exploration. Very well, then. I can go alone, I thought, and I set off through the parking lot. “Hey wait! I’d like to come with you!” She told me her name, but I couldn’t remember it. As we walked, it didn’t take ten minutes before she began one of my favorite pastimes: the question game – describing our perfect day, as I recall. She casually mentioned she was in a Christian sorority back at Boulder. She didn’t seem to be conforming to any stereotypes, and I liked that. This girl, Alea, became my first friend.

God! Thank you. That was quite prompt. You are so good to me.

He didn’t stop there.

Lugging two massive pieces of luggage into my room on the second day, I met my roommate.  Aside from the horrendous procrastination habits she is successfully teaching me, I love everything else about this girl. We are different; she takes “chilling” to a new level, and I’m a little more extroverted. But as we learned more about each other the first few days, I was astounded by our similarities. What?! You have two sisters and a brother? You like to hike? You listen to the Avett Brothers? Your best friend is from South Carolina? She feels like another sister; with a steady and even-keeled temperament, she is the perfect constant companion. She makes me laugh, her thoughts are insightful, and our cooking is improving together.

I guess I feared making friends because that was difficult for me freshman year of college. Here, it hasn’t been the case. Friendships just keep happening, almost effortlessly.  Mariah identifies and illuminates the beauty in others. Tracey is a hip-hop dancing joy. Kristina, Danielle, Kevin, Joe, Holly.

This past weekend, there was a pasta dinner, a burger night, an American breakfast (we like food, okay?), and a crazy Italian soccer game. It all happened with people I really enjoyed spending time with, people who make me laugh and share similar values. After dinner Friday night, we all sat around the table sharing stories, listening to music, and at times laughing until we were gasping for breath. As we walked back, Abby and I both agreed that it felt like a night with our friends at home. When we day-tripped to overcast Cortona, it wasn’t really about the Under the Tuscan Sun destination or museums at all. Rick Steves still provided great restaurant advice, but I spent the day aimlessly wandering around a charming town with friends I love. It’s true; already, I really do love them.

Abby, Tracey, and Mariah

Chocolate Chip Pancakes an friends. Not much better.

The deeper I dig into my time here the more treasure boxes of friendships I find. I feel more than pirate’s luck at striking this gold; I am greatly blessed by a loving God. He understands good relationships, and He desires them for His children.

To My Best Friends

"A friend is one that knows you as you are, understands where you have been, accepts what you have become, and still, gently allows you to grow." -William Shakespeare

I love Shakespeare's understanding of friendship. Having one friend that knows you fully, accepts your faults, and pushes you forward is a rarity. I have several, and I got to spend last weekend with the two very best ones. Our quality time was very special. Anderson turned 20, and I made the five-hour trek down to Clemson to celebrate. Elizabeth also came up from Charleston. I barely made it in time. Despite skipping a few classes and being at least an hour ahead of schedule, the gps on my phone decided to stop working, so I made it past the Georgia border before I realized I had probably missed an exit. The crew planned a Japanese Steak House and Ice-Skating outing in Greenville, leaving promptly at 5:45. Speeding along Clemson Boulevard, I pulled into the Wyatt Apartments at 6:00. 

A side note - this is the typical life of Jessica Compton. When I got my driver's license, I had already spent sixteen years with people who unintentionally, without fail, arrived fashionably late. Though I don't live with them anymore, I'm pretty sure they still do. It drove me crazy. I swore to myself that I would be the opposite of my family. Nope. I'm just like them. Sigh.

Back to Clemson... I bear hugged these two people that mean so much to me. They overflow with love and humor and talent and confidence. We spent all Saturday antiquing and exploring the small upstate town of Pendleton. Sorry I didn't get in touch with you other Clemson friends. I just couldn't get enought of these girls. Though Lizzy and Anderson go way back to diapers, they each graciously befriended me along the way. I'm reminded that triangles are the strongest shapes in nature, and I think that's pretty representative of what we've got going. Our similarities: Jesus, Charleston, awesome families, being outside. We're all pretty genuine people - what you see is what you get. That's all I can think of. It basically stops there. Commonalities between them: they'll just pick something up to try, and then become amazingly good at it. They care about school, but don't obsess over it they way I do. They We are so very different, but that is one beautiful thing about this friendship. We can be a threesome, or couple off. Anderson-Lizzy, Jessica-Anderson, Jessica-Lizzy. There's always unconditional, and we fill each other up in different ways.

Anderson. Lizzy. They are awesome.

If I met these girls tomorrow and I wasn't already best friends with them (lucky me!), I would learn about them and think, "Dang. These are some cool cats." Then I would tell them I want to be their friend.

The first encounter I remember with Anderson was at the end of seventh grade in art class. She was wearing baby blue crocs before anyone knew what crocs were, working away at a huge colored pencil drawing of a colorful frog. She's got some tomboy roots, but the main thing about Anderson is that she is confident in who she is, and she does what she wants. She always has, and that is one of the smaller reasons that I love her. She's really good at looking out for other people. She doesn't back down from a challenge, and everything she does intrigues me. She's not super loud, but her presence adds a new, fun dynamic when our friends come together to hangout. Anderson also fishes, plays guitar, co-leads and FCA small group. All things I wish I could do, and don't.

I knew Lizzy for a while before we in eighth grade and Lizzy really not until second semester of our senior year of high school. We had been on the cross-country team together, but never hung out one-on-one. Until we did, and it was awesome. We got ready for prom together, and I remember telling her how bummed I was that we didn't spend all of high school together. And now, here we are, about to go to different colleges, and that's probably the end of that. Except it wasn't. The summer of 2011 was ballin', and Lizzy was a huge part of that. This past summer we were together on staff at camp. In high school, I showed Lizzy the Spiritual Gifts Paul talks about 1 Corinthians. A year later, Lizzy is overflowing with joy and prophetic messages affirming people. The growth this girl has gone through is crazy, but I'm so glad I've gotten to walk alongside her and watch it happen. Lizzy is a phenomenal photographer who makes pictures to serve the Lord and show people how much He loves them.

I began this post planning on talking about what I learned from them over the weekend. Suffice it to say that they spur me on toward Jesus and they know my heart. On Sunday, though I would have loved to linger, I felt filled and ready to return to the work (and occasional loneliness) waiting for me in Roanoke.

Yeah. I hope you have a friend as good as these two. But... I think I probably have you beat. These are my best friends. I couldn't ask for better ones; I've already got the best.

Welcome, Friends

Back in November, I went on a "Shootin' and Stompin'" weekend jaunt to the outskirts of Southwest Virginia. Damascus may not be as well-known as its namesake in Israel, but it has its own signature heritage. Two of my friends shared their hometown in two fitting activities of the area - skeet shooting and flat-footing.

It didn't take long to discover that I am not a good shot. Tim explained the logistics of skeet as I ventured up to the shooting range for the first time, awkwardly toting a large gun under my arm. Stand like this, turn off the safety, say "Pull" and I'll release the pigeon. Take some time to align the gun with the skeet. Then pull the trigger.

Okay, let's go. I got this.. yeah, in theory I totally did.

I stand, I turn the safety off. "Pull"BANG! Every time the trap released a clay pigeon, an eternity seemed to pass before I pulled the trigger. In reality, I was uncomfortable, had no experience, and shot immediately after the orange flying saucer was launched. Some people are motivated by a challenge like that. To me, hitting those moving targets in the sky seemed unconquerable. I just felt like a failure. Standing around the fire, I complained about how shooting guns and missing the target was no fun at all.

Janie rebuked me. "Jessica, you just don't like doing something you're not naturally good at the first time you try."

She caught me, and she was right. A lot of people there were pretty good with guns. That night, as I eagerly hit the floor on the opening song, it took a little more courage for them to try out their dancing feet and stomp around to some live mountain music.

I tell you this story because of a truth I was reminded of. Ever since childhood, I have been afraid of failure and judgment. I hate not being good at things, and often, I would rather not try at all than feel like a fool. My perfectionism can be so inhibiting. It's why you don't see me playing a sport now; I never would try as a kid. Irrational as it may be, this fear is a primary reason I have never begun a blog either. Putting your writing out there for anyone to read intimidates me, and the lies begin flowing. What about my voice? I feel like it changes depending on my audience. Who is my audience? My writing won't be good enough. I can't do this. But I am an English major, for crying out loud. I better be able to write a little bit. I've got funny stories to tell, travel memoirs to remember, and God questions to mull over. They're all different, but they're coming from the same person, so I guess they will be from the same blog.

So thank you, Janie Foster, for calling me out on my fears and helping me set this blog up. It was a good Friday night, friend.

I am almost finished reading the first Lord of the Rings book. This quote is from it, and I think it's a good reflection of this blogging venture I'm about to begin, as well as the constant call to step outside of comfort and share the Gospel. Blogging seems petty in comparison.

"This is the hour of the Shire-folk, when they arise from their quiet fields to shake the towers and the counsels of the Great."

Here I go, stepping out of my Mt. Pleasant/Roanoke Shire. In the next year, I have a lot of adventures ahead of me - flights to Bermuda, Cambodia, and Italy have already been booked. A semester in DC will follow in the fall, and I don't know how my journey will unfold after that. I am certain of this, though: it will. Life will keep on going, and I will walk with it in fullness and freedom. No matter the physical distance, I want my friends to be able to walk by my side. I'm off, venturing into unknown cyber and real-world territory. I hope you will join me.