My roommate Stef put it best when she compared the first few weeks of Mars Hill to standing under Niagra Falls holding a Dixie cup. No dang kiddin. I think I want some more pores for Christmas so I can better absorb all this delicious and scandalous learning.
It doesn't help either, as I quickly realized, that apparently my brain is little more than a quarter pound of flab, because I feel like I just started a marathon that I did not train for. I am not used to thinking at these jacked-up levels. I also admit I think I was caught in a daydream when the starting gun fired, because I'm already behind. But I should be good here in a minute once I wrangle in my focus and my world-famous self-discipline/time-management skillz.
More later. For now have a story:
My overwhelmedness came to a head last Wednesday night after my 3rd evening of class at the foot of Niagra. Humbled by my mushy brain and clumsy start, I was pretty freaked out about how demanding this is gonna be. I came home to an empty house and after Stef's dogchild Scooter did all but hand me a roll of toilet paper and his leash, I took the furry one out for a dump.
As I approached the park at the end of the street I began to hear stunning music coming from the baseball diamond--Willie Nelson and such. And behold, there frolicking in the dirt and stunning music was a big group of folks playing kickball and drinking beer! Every one of them looked like a rock star, or something out of an 80s indie film--it was a beautiful array of vintage tees, mustaches, cigarettes, ray-bans, boys in blue jean cut-offs, girls with pink hair, and tattoos in abundantia. They were disheveled to a near-perfect degree, and I was in love.
Long story short (jay-kay, no such thing with me), after punting Scoot back through the front door I promptly took my place in the batting lineup. (Don't worry I didn't invite myself--after staring longingly at them for 10 minutes, fingers clutching the fence holes, laughing out loud at their jokes, etc, one of the rock stars invited me to play.)
Of course it turns out that kickball with rock stars was just the chill I needed at that moment. I was told that many of these cats were native Seattlers who had been friends since childhood, and for a lil veggie like me whose roots are still sore from the recent transplant, the feeling of being amidst a big rowdy group of cousins whose love and acceptance of each other have long been cemented was refreshing and relaxing, even if I wasn't one of them.
My favorite moment was the last play of the game, when this guy was rounding third and another guy jumped into the baseline blocking his run home. So then a teammate of the runner came behind him and started pushing both the runner and the blocker towards home. A huge shoving match ensued between the teams, wherein the runner's team at last shoved him safely across the plate encased in a jumbled, laughing mob of rock star cousins.
Ahhh. I haven't been awake to a more gorgeous flash of life in ages.
4 comments:
yay new friends!
yay gorgeous flash of light! i said a little prayer after reading that line (you just took my breath away...).
Sounds wonderful! We're cool this end, D emersed in being the best dr and dad ever and the kids just being great explorers and me wading into school and it all seems to mesh, God is good! Love you, Y
I feel you on that, running a marathon you have not trained for...I feel very much the same way! Loved the story too, and I have to say your style of writing :) (I am a writing nerd so I notice things like that)
Holly, you are such a good writer. I was transported back to my kickball days. I think I felt the little flash of light you felt just by hearing the story. I am so glad you had the courage to play with such fine players.
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