don't close your eyes

The first time I saw Switchfoot I was thirteen. My family used to go to this music festival in Atlanta, Georgia in the summertime. For four days bands would play one after the other from about three in the afternoon ‘til midnight or so. It was always rediculously really hot, but I remember having a great time. Naturally, a lot of artists, big and small, had the opportunity to play. Each day started with random bands that no one had ever heard of and then ended with huge names…names that made people come out for the festival in the first place.

Switchfoot played at 3:00 in the afternoon…on the first day.

It was epic.There were, oh I don’t know…fifty…people sitting out in their lawn chairs out on this big grassy field that was the theater. They knew what was up, though. Before the first song was even over, people were going crazy. Everyone, even I, knew these guys were the real deal.

I love Switchfoot for a lot of reasons, and one of the biggest reasons is that their lyrics are absolute poetry. I have so many memories of riding around in one of my dad’s little wannabe sports cars with him belting out Switchfoot lyrics. Pumping the breaks at stoplights to the beat, bobbing his head back and forth, taking the corners sharp in hopes of making me scream. It always worked. Actually, it always works. Some things never change. My love for Switchfoot is one of the many, many things I get from Daddy.

You remember when, we were way back then. You held the world inside your hand. When you told me love was the strongest stuff, your strength was innocence… You’ve been given innocence again.

Switchfoot’s songs remind me how beautiful life is. How I don’t want to miss a moment. How every little ounce of life counts, and how you have to be awake to actually be living it.

This weekend’s been a little like that.

Friday night our social committee brought in Natalie Stovall to do a concert. She’s an up and coming country artist from Nashville. Now, I have to be honest. I had never heard of her before, but I did hear from my roommate that she was good, so my friends and I went. Unfortunately, Natalie came on a night when way too many things were going on at Hendrix for a campus of 1,300. There were, I don't know...maybe 30...people in the audience. In a pretty big auditorium, too. And this was a legit concert, too--band, amps, lighting, everything. It was horrible.

but

The thirty of us decided that we better be the thirty biggest fans ever no matter how few of us actually were going to know a single song. Natalie sang. The girl is amazing. We screamed. We jumped. We waved our hands in the air. I pulled out the skills I learned back in Atlanta at thirteen. A couple of my friends and I took it upon ourselves to spend the entire concert standing at the front of the stage dancing and singing along as much as we possibly could. (It helped that she did some other popular, well-known songs.) We realized how insane it was that no one showed up to hear her play, but we still wanted her to feel welcomed and enjoyed. And we had an amazing time doing it.

She rocked it. As if she had a crowd of a thousand, she played her fiddle, belted her country lyrics, and absolutely earned the ecstatic praises of our tiny, little audience. It was like we wanted to give our best for her, and she wanted to give her best for us. After the concert my friends and I went and took our picture with Natalie and we thanked each other for the fantastic evening. It was beautiful.

Only the losers win. They've got nothing to prove. They'll leave the world with nothing to lose.

This morning (Saturday, mind you) the Office of Admissions was holding a visitation day for prospective students. As a part of my fellowship working with the Murphy Program on campus, I had to be at their programs fair at 8:00 in the morning to talk to prospective students (and their sometimes very intense parents...) about the Murphy Program. So, I woke up early, put on my favorite sophisticated-looking outfit, and walked over to meet my boss where we would be talking to folks. Pretty soon after putting on the fancy "Student Intern" name tag that she handed me, parents and high schoolers started walking by the little table we had set up to talk and try to feel things out for themselves.

Now, I know that it's kind of lame that this is a big deal for me, but I don't care. It was. Two years ago, when I was the one going to college fairs and the such, I was the girl that wanted to just dodge through, grabbing fliers and avoiding talking to any actual people at all costs. Daddy had to go with me and literally force me to talk to people. I remember being so mad when the Hendrix lady talked to us for, like, fifteen whole minutes. (The nerve.) We walked away and I told him not to go to more tables that said ARKANSAS.

Welcome to the fall-out. The tension is here. The tension is here between who you are and who you could be... Between how it is and how is should be. I dare you to move.

But today I talked to people. A lot of people, actually. I introduced myself to people that looked intested in our table and talked about whatever seemed to flow. And I wasn't even nervous. I actually had fun. Some crazy father literally interrogated me in front of my boss about the value of a liberal arts education. I think I actually gave him a pretty good answer, though. Nell (my boss) seemed to think I did, which was encouraging. And I was able to do it for the very reason that I was giving him. Because the liberal arts education is valuable. Because it is changing my life.

Shine on me. The shadow proves the sunshine. The shadow proves the sunshine.

Later in the morning, my friends Heather and Nathan and I traveled to Little Rock with a group of elementary and middle school students from a neighboring town that we have a weekly tutoring session with. We go on these field trips every once in a while as a reward to them for participating in the tutoring program. The town of Menifee, AR has a population of only about 300, but back in the day it was a major gathering place for many Arkansan African-Americans. Dr. Hines, a Hendrix professor who lives in Menifee and started the tutoring project, has proudly told me on multiple occasions about the gatherings and concerts that used to go on there. Unfortunately, a toronado came through Menifee that destroyed much of the town's ability to function the way it used to. And due to the Menifee schools being shut down, the kids now have to go to another school where they don't feel as at home.

And all I see, it could never make me happy And all my sandcastles spend their time collapsing. Let me know that you hear me Let me know your touch Let me know that you love me Let that be enough.

We went to Little Rock in celebration of the culmination of Black History Month. We visited the Mosaic Templars of America Museum in the district of the state's capitol that, during segregation, was owned an operated by African Americans. It was wonderful. And walking through with Dr. Hines was extraordinary. The woman knew the people that the museum displays talked about. She had seen the things in the pictures and been the places that were depicted. She could tell you just as much, and more, as the entire collection of displays.

And of course, being with the kids was so much fun. They are some crazy little people. These kids are more outgoing and bold that I have ever been, and I love them for it. Being mainly elementary-aged boys, they didn't exactly fully appreciate the museum, but there were definitely moments when I would catch them really taking a display in. It was good. I love those kids.


Love is the movement.


Love is a revolution.


This is redemption.


We don't have to slow back down.

The one thing about the museum exibit itself that really stands out is that they had two pieces of wall, broken apart, that had "white" and "colored" painted on them. Those signs are something that has become almost a symbol of the time in our country prior to the Civil Rights Movement. Everyone knows they were there, but to see it in real life...to see the actual pieces of wall right there...

I had to take a deep breath and collect myself.

It's unbelievable. It is so disturbing. And at the same time, look how far we've come.

I want to wake up kicking and screaming I want to know that my heart's still beating. It's beating, I'm bleeding... We're awakening.

It's getting late. Obviously, it's been a long and glorious day. Tomorrow morning I will go to church. Greenbrier First United Methodist. My church. And I will go to Sunday School with Ms. Donna, and then in the service Dr. Farthing will sing with a booming voice and talk about our first Sunday of lent. He will serve communion and give his weekly speech about his passionate love for doing so. The three little old ladies that drive little red Volvo will park next to us. The children in the pew behind me will rustle their papers and be shushed by their mother. It will all be so normal, and yet, so beautiful.

Erosion. Oh, Spirit, fall like rain on my thirsty soul.

I love my life. I love the fact that I can go to a concert with thirty people at it on a Friday night and have the time of my life. I love waking up early on Saturday mornings and finding it to be more worthwhile than I could have ever imagined. I love chasing rambunctious kids around museums. I love going to church. I love eating cereal for dinner on Saturday nights because the cafeteria is closed and I want to save my money for my student loans. I love having to borrow my roommate's clothes because all my clothes are dirty and the laundry machine in my dorm is broken again. I love that I've been listening to "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" (not even Switchfoot...) on repeat for three hours now. I love the fact that it's 2:30 in the morning and I should really go to bed, but I'm having way too much fun writing this.

I love that when I wake up tomorrow morning after getting not enough sleep, I get to open a brand-new bag of coffee. The first pot is always the best.

Don't close your eyes
Don't close your eyes.
This is your life,
Are you who you want to be?