It's been 9 days since I successfully walked the stage and became a former student of Texas A&M University. My ring has been turned around, and now the eagle, like all the other Aggies that have come before me, now stand behind the class of 2015.
Whoop.
I had a week of freedom on a beach in Florida, but tomorrow dawns adulthood. Or something that resembles it.
Somehow, I have found myself at an internship that is 8-5, four days a week. My first thought when I heard that was, "But I don't know how to adult yet." But that 6:30 alarm is going to go off, and I might become a coffee drinker (which means I should figure out the Keurig), and that toll tag is going to ring up a tab, and I have to figure out what a w9 is.
It's the most thrilling, terrifying thing in the world. I mean, I'm wearing makeup and a skirt before the sun rises tomorrow. Who even am I? I need to find a travel mug and learn to like cliff bars. Work is going to come, and the adventure of life with a degree begins. Somehow just waving it around on a stage doesn't mean I will automatically succeed at all jobs. Who knew?
In addition to my four days a week of being a grown up, I'll also be raising support to do ministry in the fall. So that's equal parts scary and exciting. The Lord is faithful to provide, and has far exceeded anything I could've imagined so far. I have no doubt that my finances will be any exception. But if you could keep me in your prayers for that, I would appreciate it.
Now all THAT being said, I will consider this my official announcement of what I'm doing in the fall (Facebook posts aren't my thing anymore). I will be working for Grace Bible Church in College Station doing college ministry with A&M and Blinn students. The Gospel is cool, and I would like to share it.
The world is big, I'm very little, and God is good. He clearly knows what he's doing, and I'm excited (and, you know, unbelievably nervous) to see how this very bright future he has painted continues to pan out.
Good morning, sunrise. You and I will become very familiar with each other, I think.
Monday, May 25, 2015
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
A House Is Not A Memory Trapper
My roommates are about to spackle some holes in the living room. Myles is loudly singing some old worship song--while beating the wall--and Rachel caught it on film. Neither of them are 100% confident in what they're doing, but they're going to try and nail it (Rachel just noted that it looks like ice cream but warned Myles to not eat it). This is a day in the life of my house.
One of the last days, actually.
I think we all had a mental knowledge of this week's imminent arrival--we're 3 days out from graduation. But all this packing and painting and the living room in disarray is making the reality, the emotions of the situation, extraordinarily real.
We're doing a good job of making memories and choosing to ignore the goodbyes. Myles and Rachel have turned on "The Wobble" in the living room. Myles has changed the lyrics to, "Hey big girl, go ahead and spackle up."
The picture frames are off the shelves. The sofa is gone. Myles is sleeping on an air mattress. The kitchen has been divided up on a Google doc. It's all changing. This comfy, 1100 square foot little house has been part of many memories. We've had dance parties and crying sessions in the living room. It was a sleepover for two years. It was not without its own faults, and it saw many faults of its residents.
It would be ridiculous to say that this house is just a house, but it will be moved out of and cleaned and readied for the next round of people. It is not immune to wear and tear, nor is it fully prepared for future residents. The house is the holder of memories.
But thankfully memories are not trapped within where they were made. They may be more potent there, feel like they are happening again around you, have strong reminders of what happened. But unlike this house, which will stay planted (however unsteadily based on some foundation issues we've noticed), I get to go.
All the moments where I laughed so hard I cried, where we talked through or quoted movies, threw birthday parties, rearranged, rearranged again, talked out a problem, hugged out the resolution and then made our way out with called "I love you"'s over our shoulders.
I want to say that I hope to find friends like these again, and a place to hold those future memories, but that would require replacing Joy, Myles, and Rachel (and, like, not moving ever). And I think they're one of a kind. While I aspire for close-knit friendships in the future, I know that these women are pretty irreplaceable. And friendships I will maintain until death do we part.
Andy Bernard, in the last episode of The Office, said "I wish we knew we were in the good ole days before we left them."
Initially, I'm inclined to agree with him. But I refuse to believe that this house is the single manifestation of the "good ole days" and that leaving it signifies that the best time of my life is ending. I'm 23. I have a lot of life to live. I think that the rest of my life, however long it is, will be rich with goodness.
No, my nonexistent readers (it would be pompous to assume anyone besides my parents reads this), I am confident that the last beautiful, growing, hard, hilarious four years have been but a glimpse of the life still yet to live.
One of the last days, actually.
I think we all had a mental knowledge of this week's imminent arrival--we're 3 days out from graduation. But all this packing and painting and the living room in disarray is making the reality, the emotions of the situation, extraordinarily real.
We're doing a good job of making memories and choosing to ignore the goodbyes. Myles and Rachel have turned on "The Wobble" in the living room. Myles has changed the lyrics to, "Hey big girl, go ahead and spackle up."
The picture frames are off the shelves. The sofa is gone. Myles is sleeping on an air mattress. The kitchen has been divided up on a Google doc. It's all changing. This comfy, 1100 square foot little house has been part of many memories. We've had dance parties and crying sessions in the living room. It was a sleepover for two years. It was not without its own faults, and it saw many faults of its residents.
It would be ridiculous to say that this house is just a house, but it will be moved out of and cleaned and readied for the next round of people. It is not immune to wear and tear, nor is it fully prepared for future residents. The house is the holder of memories.
But thankfully memories are not trapped within where they were made. They may be more potent there, feel like they are happening again around you, have strong reminders of what happened. But unlike this house, which will stay planted (however unsteadily based on some foundation issues we've noticed), I get to go.
All the moments where I laughed so hard I cried, where we talked through or quoted movies, threw birthday parties, rearranged, rearranged again, talked out a problem, hugged out the resolution and then made our way out with called "I love you"'s over our shoulders.
I want to say that I hope to find friends like these again, and a place to hold those future memories, but that would require replacing Joy, Myles, and Rachel (and, like, not moving ever). And I think they're one of a kind. While I aspire for close-knit friendships in the future, I know that these women are pretty irreplaceable. And friendships I will maintain until death do we part.
Andy Bernard, in the last episode of The Office, said "I wish we knew we were in the good ole days before we left them."
Initially, I'm inclined to agree with him. But I refuse to believe that this house is the single manifestation of the "good ole days" and that leaving it signifies that the best time of my life is ending. I'm 23. I have a lot of life to live. I think that the rest of my life, however long it is, will be rich with goodness.
No, my nonexistent readers (it would be pompous to assume anyone besides my parents reads this), I am confident that the last beautiful, growing, hard, hilarious four years have been but a glimpse of the life still yet to live.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
6
On this day in 2009, my grandfather passed away. He was the first, and remains the only, close family member I've lost. To consider myself blessed in that regard would be a colossal understatement. To say that the loss was not a difficult one, however, would be a lie.
In one week, I will become a former student of Texas A&M University. If we want to get specific, we're 6 days and 22 hours away. My grandfather, Papa, attended A&M for a time in the early 1950's, and while he graduated from that hippie school in Austin (hisssss), I never saw him cheer against the Ags--even on Thanksgiving. I am proud to be in the fourth generation of Aggies of my family. I wish he could see me walk (or, uh, maybe trip) across the stage, but the fact that he walked the university before me is more than comforting.
It's incredible to see aspects of him sprinkled around my family. The helpful hand went to my aunt. The outdoorsman to my uncles. The quick smile (and stubbornness) to my mom. The love of music to my brother. The eager to laugh to my sister. The high level of intellect to my cousin Haley. The love of family to Holly. The adventurous spirits (and blue eyes) to Lacey and Parker. The tan skin and love of competition to Emily and Caroline. The rough-and-tumble attitude to Morgan (adopted or not, she picked up some things from the old man). The love of books to me. Of course, everyone got a little of everything. Some are more stubborn than others, some with a bit more wanderlust than others.
But in our cores, we know where we came from. We know that this baritone-voiced man who ate all our Cheetos eagerly loved us, constantly cared for our grandmother, and made our parents who they were.
I mean really, he filled up Nanny's car with gas for 50 years because she spilled it on herself one time. He took care of his own.
This passion to serve was a product of the way he served the Lord. I'm in the middle of a pack of 10 grandchildren--8 of them are girls. It would've been easy for me to blend in, to remain unnoticed because I was quiet and didn't draw attention to myself. But every time I saw Papa, he brought me a book or a Land Before Time Movie. He knew Linley.
Birthdays just aren't as fun without that sweet, low voice singing to me. Holidays always lack something without him 1. falling asleep in front of the fire/TV or 2. regaling us with stories. He was the love of my grandmother's life. The standard of man for my cousin and brother to look up to and for my cousins and me to look for. The best kind of father to my mom and aunt and uncles.
He leaves a legacy of love, of the importance of Christ, of the necessity of good food.
I hope to follow suit.
In honor of Jesse Don Lyles, September 19, 1933--May 9, 2009.
In one week, I will become a former student of Texas A&M University. If we want to get specific, we're 6 days and 22 hours away. My grandfather, Papa, attended A&M for a time in the early 1950's, and while he graduated from that hippie school in Austin (hisssss), I never saw him cheer against the Ags--even on Thanksgiving. I am proud to be in the fourth generation of Aggies of my family. I wish he could see me walk (or, uh, maybe trip) across the stage, but the fact that he walked the university before me is more than comforting.
It's incredible to see aspects of him sprinkled around my family. The helpful hand went to my aunt. The outdoorsman to my uncles. The quick smile (and stubbornness) to my mom. The love of music to my brother. The eager to laugh to my sister. The high level of intellect to my cousin Haley. The love of family to Holly. The adventurous spirits (and blue eyes) to Lacey and Parker. The tan skin and love of competition to Emily and Caroline. The rough-and-tumble attitude to Morgan (adopted or not, she picked up some things from the old man). The love of books to me. Of course, everyone got a little of everything. Some are more stubborn than others, some with a bit more wanderlust than others.
But in our cores, we know where we came from. We know that this baritone-voiced man who ate all our Cheetos eagerly loved us, constantly cared for our grandmother, and made our parents who they were.
I mean really, he filled up Nanny's car with gas for 50 years because she spilled it on herself one time. He took care of his own.
This passion to serve was a product of the way he served the Lord. I'm in the middle of a pack of 10 grandchildren--8 of them are girls. It would've been easy for me to blend in, to remain unnoticed because I was quiet and didn't draw attention to myself. But every time I saw Papa, he brought me a book or a Land Before Time Movie. He knew Linley.
Birthdays just aren't as fun without that sweet, low voice singing to me. Holidays always lack something without him 1. falling asleep in front of the fire/TV or 2. regaling us with stories. He was the love of my grandmother's life. The standard of man for my cousin and brother to look up to and for my cousins and me to look for. The best kind of father to my mom and aunt and uncles.
He leaves a legacy of love, of the importance of Christ, of the necessity of good food.
I hope to follow suit.
In honor of Jesse Don Lyles, September 19, 1933--May 9, 2009.
Monday, April 20, 2015
The Final Few
I graduate from Texas A&M University in 25 days, 22 hours, and 31 minutes. But who's counting?
Truthfully, I couldn't even tell you if I'm excited to graduate or not. Because the idea of no longer being a student and not having to take tests is a thrilling idea. But I think I would willingly take a test every day for an indefinite amount of time if that meant I don't have to say goodbye to some of the people who are going to be rolling out in May.
The nostalgia is so, so real.
25 days, 22 hours, 21 minutes.
For some reason, it feels exponentially more difficult to resolve myself to the fact that college is ending than it was for high school. Maybe because high school was not my thing. But being with the people I was with here, in College Station, and the things I had to learn and go through just makes this weird little city seem far more significant than anything else I've ever experienced. These were my formative years. My years where I figured out how to love well, how to do laundry, how to say yes (and how to say no), how to form my own opinions, how to do confrontation well, how to change the battery of a smoke detector. How to make my walk with Christ a priority.
Now I'm sitting at work and trying not to cry.
25 days, 22 hours, 17 minutes.
What have I even done with these four years. I could categorize it by the music I listened to, the shows I watched. The things I was involved in. The clothes that I wore. The friends who came in and stayed or the ones that just passed through. The influential people. The people I didn't 100% get along with. All two of the guys I dated. The places I lived. The jobs I had. The classes I took. The struggles I faced. The themes of each semester.
It's all a blur. But when I take a minute to slow down, to breathe, to sit back, I see a small part of a picture. I am not the same Linley who walked into Krueger 415 with a thousand expectations and few life experiences. I will walk out of my little house on Fairview with a thousand experiences that form one big statement:
I will inevitably fail at most things, but the Lord is a good Father who tends to me in all situations.
25 days, 22 hours, 10 minutes.
Yes, this post is disgustingly sappy and dramatic and reflective. I promise that there is part of me that is pretty grossed out by the whole thing.
And yes, I am staying in College Station for another year. But 75% of the people I've come to know and love during my time here will not. Most are staying in Texas. One is going to New York. Another to Seattle. Still another one to India.
No one tells you how hard senior year is. How stressful. How utterly terrifying. But if the Lord chooses for the rest of my life to be half as incredible as the last 4 years were, I think I'll be okay.
25 days, 22 hours, 1 minute.
Truthfully, I couldn't even tell you if I'm excited to graduate or not. Because the idea of no longer being a student and not having to take tests is a thrilling idea. But I think I would willingly take a test every day for an indefinite amount of time if that meant I don't have to say goodbye to some of the people who are going to be rolling out in May.
The nostalgia is so, so real.
25 days, 22 hours, 21 minutes.
For some reason, it feels exponentially more difficult to resolve myself to the fact that college is ending than it was for high school. Maybe because high school was not my thing. But being with the people I was with here, in College Station, and the things I had to learn and go through just makes this weird little city seem far more significant than anything else I've ever experienced. These were my formative years. My years where I figured out how to love well, how to do laundry, how to say yes (and how to say no), how to form my own opinions, how to do confrontation well, how to change the battery of a smoke detector. How to make my walk with Christ a priority.
Now I'm sitting at work and trying not to cry.
25 days, 22 hours, 17 minutes.
What have I even done with these four years. I could categorize it by the music I listened to, the shows I watched. The things I was involved in. The clothes that I wore. The friends who came in and stayed or the ones that just passed through. The influential people. The people I didn't 100% get along with. All two of the guys I dated. The places I lived. The jobs I had. The classes I took. The struggles I faced. The themes of each semester.
It's all a blur. But when I take a minute to slow down, to breathe, to sit back, I see a small part of a picture. I am not the same Linley who walked into Krueger 415 with a thousand expectations and few life experiences. I will walk out of my little house on Fairview with a thousand experiences that form one big statement:
I will inevitably fail at most things, but the Lord is a good Father who tends to me in all situations.
25 days, 22 hours, 10 minutes.
Yes, this post is disgustingly sappy and dramatic and reflective. I promise that there is part of me that is pretty grossed out by the whole thing.
And yes, I am staying in College Station for another year. But 75% of the people I've come to know and love during my time here will not. Most are staying in Texas. One is going to New York. Another to Seattle. Still another one to India.
No one tells you how hard senior year is. How stressful. How utterly terrifying. But if the Lord chooses for the rest of my life to be half as incredible as the last 4 years were, I think I'll be okay.
25 days, 22 hours, 1 minute.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
The New Testament (a historical look)
Amidst all the chaos for planning for the future, I actually have classes that I go to. Being a graduating senior allows for certain perks, like taking 9 hours and being considered a full time student. And having 3 of those hours being online. Yeah, I'm only on campus for a few hours on Tuesday and Thursday. It is as wonderful as it sounds.
My final 9 hours allowed me to take any two communication classes that I wanted, and any other random credit of my choosing. So I chose to take a class on the New Testament.
On the first day of class, my professor walked in, introduced himself, and then promptly announced that he was unafraid to offend and hoped that what we learned in class challenged our beliefs. And rather than sinking down in my seat or looking up other classes to take, my first thought was, "Okay, let's see then."
Honestly, the class hasn't done anything to challenge my beliefs in Christ, or the validity of the Bible, or any other part of my faith. It's kind of done the opposite. All the historical context of when the latter half of the Bible was written is ridiculously interesting. For a 75 minute class, which is normally torture for my short attention span, I rarely look at my watch.
My professor is quirky, and extremely intelligent. He lays out the information objectively (he goes to an Eastern Orthodox church) and it is so clear that he knows what he's talking about. Maybe he's been giving his best efforts to try and dissuade me from my beliefs, but it really has been more affirming than anything.
And it's pretty cool to get historical meaning for who the Pharisees actually were, and how Herod came into power, and how the Bible itself was formed. It's given me context for how important the Temple was, how radical Jesus was, and why different groups reacted the way that they did. And, beyond that, how people reacted after Jesus ascended to Heaven. He made big waves, you guys. The world was immediately changed as people tried to figure out who He was, as Paul and the disciples spread the news around.
A big thing that we focused on the first two weeks of class was about the potential errors of the Bible. Which I get where the argument is coming from--the printing press didn't exist in 60CE, and people had to copy Scripture somehow. Scribes copied and translated and sent out texts. Errors were bound to be made. And, admittedly, there were moments were I did wonder how we could believe what has been copied countless times.
But here's the thing: my God is vastly larger than human error. Jesus died on the cross and then raised from the dead to prove that he was much, much more powerful than any mistake humans could ever make. The point is that no, we do not have the absolute original writings of Mark. But I am confident that the Lord would not let his messages be changed by typos.
I have my first test in that class tomorrow, and while it is a ton of information, it is not information I am uninterested in. I'm a history nerd. I'm learning about the New Testament. And I'm seeing how faithful the Lord is to move through thousands of years. I think, in my last semester of college, I have found one of my favorite classes.
My final 9 hours allowed me to take any two communication classes that I wanted, and any other random credit of my choosing. So I chose to take a class on the New Testament.
On the first day of class, my professor walked in, introduced himself, and then promptly announced that he was unafraid to offend and hoped that what we learned in class challenged our beliefs. And rather than sinking down in my seat or looking up other classes to take, my first thought was, "Okay, let's see then."
Honestly, the class hasn't done anything to challenge my beliefs in Christ, or the validity of the Bible, or any other part of my faith. It's kind of done the opposite. All the historical context of when the latter half of the Bible was written is ridiculously interesting. For a 75 minute class, which is normally torture for my short attention span, I rarely look at my watch.
My professor is quirky, and extremely intelligent. He lays out the information objectively (he goes to an Eastern Orthodox church) and it is so clear that he knows what he's talking about. Maybe he's been giving his best efforts to try and dissuade me from my beliefs, but it really has been more affirming than anything.
And it's pretty cool to get historical meaning for who the Pharisees actually were, and how Herod came into power, and how the Bible itself was formed. It's given me context for how important the Temple was, how radical Jesus was, and why different groups reacted the way that they did. And, beyond that, how people reacted after Jesus ascended to Heaven. He made big waves, you guys. The world was immediately changed as people tried to figure out who He was, as Paul and the disciples spread the news around.
A big thing that we focused on the first two weeks of class was about the potential errors of the Bible. Which I get where the argument is coming from--the printing press didn't exist in 60CE, and people had to copy Scripture somehow. Scribes copied and translated and sent out texts. Errors were bound to be made. And, admittedly, there were moments were I did wonder how we could believe what has been copied countless times.
But here's the thing: my God is vastly larger than human error. Jesus died on the cross and then raised from the dead to prove that he was much, much more powerful than any mistake humans could ever make. The point is that no, we do not have the absolute original writings of Mark. But I am confident that the Lord would not let his messages be changed by typos.
I have my first test in that class tomorrow, and while it is a ton of information, it is not information I am uninterested in. I'm a history nerd. I'm learning about the New Testament. And I'm seeing how faithful the Lord is to move through thousands of years. I think, in my last semester of college, I have found one of my favorite classes.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
One Step Ahead
Well team. It's February. And I still have zero solid plans for what post-grad life is going to look like. No clue really. There are things that I think would be cool to do, but I don't know how to get to those places or who to talk to or how to be an adult. I have a firm handshake, a good support system, and a big God, but sometimes that doesn't feel like enough.
Foolishly, I believe that those things (particularly the last thing) are inadequate for carrying me into the next phase of life.
Believing that lie immediately leads me to picture myself in a dark, circular room. I know there are doors that I just have to try and open, but I can't find the doors, and even if I did, would I have the courage to try the knob? So I just end up running around and banging into walls before feeling drained and hopeless about the large, ambiguous future.
I am not called to live this way. Ecclesiastes 7 commands me to not trust on my own wisdom and righteousness because doing so would label me a fool--ironic, isn't it? Trying to glean wisdom by myself makes me look like an idiot. But that's exactly what I've been trying to do. I've been digging around in my head to figure out what the heck I want to do after May when all I have to do is let go.
The future is big, too big for me to do on my own, and will always be one step ahead of me.
For the record, that is not a wisdom bomb that I dropped on myself.
I know it's all going to be okay. The future is going to come, and keep coming, and there's only so much I can do to prepare for it--which isn't much. But trusting in the one individual who can stand by my side as life happens is the one thing I can safely hold onto.
Christ is sufficient for me.
Foolishly, I believe that those things (particularly the last thing) are inadequate for carrying me into the next phase of life.
Believing that lie immediately leads me to picture myself in a dark, circular room. I know there are doors that I just have to try and open, but I can't find the doors, and even if I did, would I have the courage to try the knob? So I just end up running around and banging into walls before feeling drained and hopeless about the large, ambiguous future.
I am not called to live this way. Ecclesiastes 7 commands me to not trust on my own wisdom and righteousness because doing so would label me a fool--ironic, isn't it? Trying to glean wisdom by myself makes me look like an idiot. But that's exactly what I've been trying to do. I've been digging around in my head to figure out what the heck I want to do after May when all I have to do is let go.
The future is big, too big for me to do on my own, and will always be one step ahead of me.
For the record, that is not a wisdom bomb that I dropped on myself.
I know it's all going to be okay. The future is going to come, and keep coming, and there's only so much I can do to prepare for it--which isn't much. But trusting in the one individual who can stand by my side as life happens is the one thing I can safely hold onto.
Christ is sufficient for me.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
I went cruisin'
The camp I worked at this summer is pretty incredible. And the people I got close to quickly became some of my favorite people. We learned together, we grew together, we laughed, cried, danced, and jumped into mud pits together. We worshiped a big, big God together. I wouldn't trade them for the world.
Thankfully, our directors knew that, and organized a group of us to go on a cruise in January to Mexico so we could reunite and hang out and catch up. And, because I think I'm funny, I wrote down my thoughts as things happened, and you guys get to read them. So here was my cruise with Camp Peniel.
Day 1
Getting to Galveston was pretty easy until we, like, actually got here. Now it's just confusing.
WHERE IS THIS PARKING GARAGE.
It doesn't exist.
And I clearly still don't know my left from my right.
Google Maps successfully took us to an electrical warehouse.
But we did find Texas A&M Galveston. #fishemAgs
Okay yeah we made it to the parking location with some help from the county constable.
Oh my. This boat is so large.
And I don't know if I like this whole rocking business.
It's like the Titanic. I'm freaking out.
Upon first inspection, there is one large bed in the room. For 5 girls.
Ope, beds fall from the ceiling. It's like Chicken Little meets Sleeping Beauty.
This restaurant is FANCY y'all.
Day 2
Good morning captain. Didn't anticipate hearing your voice coming over the intercom at 9:30am.
Phat chilled on a beach chair on the back of the ship all day. This is the dream.
And had 3 ice cream cones. Swag.
Why is it that I prefer Whataburger to fancy restaurant foods.
I'm clearly so uncultured.
This ship has been rocking and rolling all day. Holla at dat Dramamine.
Speaking of the ship, it's still a pretty weird thought that I am actually on a ship.
Karaoke is the place to be y'all. This little girl sang "Let It Go" and I almost cried. So precious.
Day 3
It's becoming easier to share a bed with 2 other humans. Still not my ideal situation though.
COZUMEL HERE I COME.
Ah yes. My limited Spanish knowledge coming into play with this taxi situation.
I don't hate being on a beach twice during one break.
Alas, I'm not as good at bargaining as I once was. That's disappointing.
WATER SLIDE ON A BOAT!
I rather enjoy this whole watching-a-movie-on-a-boat business.
Ugh, I still need Dramamine. You would think I would be used to the rocking by this point.
Day 4
HUZZAH! MAYAN RUINS! HISTORY!
Okay but really this is actually really cool.
Ha. Roman church arch in the middle of the once-plaza. Which piece of architecture doesn't belong...
This is all so incredible. I want to explore forever.
Giant natural spring!
Okay actually not that giant. But real deep, and crystal clear.
Swimming where the Mayans swam! I'm so native!
Good news team: bargaining game back on point.
I have consumed an embarrassing amount of ice cream on this ship.
Also just ordered two meals for dinner. Oops.
This "magic" show was just a bunch of flashing lights and show girls. Highly disappointing.
Dramamine. Dramamine for days.
It's not a real vacation until I somehow injure myself.
Day 5
I love sleep. Sleep is my favorite thing.
It's 2pm and all I've done is eat a burrito and read. The dream.
WOW IT IS SO WINDY.
Phat chillin all day long.
Worship while watching the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico is pretty incredible.
I sat in a hot tub and watched Guardians of the Galaxy. Yaaaaaas.
Okay two-stepping on a rocking boat is not easy.
Over half our group is sea sick, so I guess we're going out with a bang?
Day 6
LAND AHOY!
I'm going to miss these people a whole lot.
Until next time, Camp Peniel.
Yep. That was my adventure onto a cruise ship. Lots of friends, lots of food, lots of fellowship. I'm pretty okay with it.
Thankfully, our directors knew that, and organized a group of us to go on a cruise in January to Mexico so we could reunite and hang out and catch up. And, because I think I'm funny, I wrote down my thoughts as things happened, and you guys get to read them. So here was my cruise with Camp Peniel.
Day 1
Getting to Galveston was pretty easy until we, like, actually got here. Now it's just confusing.
WHERE IS THIS PARKING GARAGE.
It doesn't exist.
And I clearly still don't know my left from my right.
Google Maps successfully took us to an electrical warehouse.
But we did find Texas A&M Galveston. #fishemAgs
Okay yeah we made it to the parking location with some help from the county constable.
Oh my. This boat is so large.
And I don't know if I like this whole rocking business.
It's like the Titanic. I'm freaking out.
Upon first inspection, there is one large bed in the room. For 5 girls.
Ope, beds fall from the ceiling. It's like Chicken Little meets Sleeping Beauty.
This restaurant is FANCY y'all.
Day 2
Good morning captain. Didn't anticipate hearing your voice coming over the intercom at 9:30am.
Phat chilled on a beach chair on the back of the ship all day. This is the dream.
And had 3 ice cream cones. Swag.
Why is it that I prefer Whataburger to fancy restaurant foods.
I'm clearly so uncultured.
This ship has been rocking and rolling all day. Holla at dat Dramamine.
Speaking of the ship, it's still a pretty weird thought that I am actually on a ship.
Karaoke is the place to be y'all. This little girl sang "Let It Go" and I almost cried. So precious.
Day 3
It's becoming easier to share a bed with 2 other humans. Still not my ideal situation though.
COZUMEL HERE I COME.
Ah yes. My limited Spanish knowledge coming into play with this taxi situation.
I don't hate being on a beach twice during one break.
Alas, I'm not as good at bargaining as I once was. That's disappointing.
WATER SLIDE ON A BOAT!
I rather enjoy this whole watching-a-movie-on-a-boat business.
Ugh, I still need Dramamine. You would think I would be used to the rocking by this point.
Day 4
HUZZAH! MAYAN RUINS! HISTORY!
Okay but really this is actually really cool.
Ha. Roman church arch in the middle of the once-plaza. Which piece of architecture doesn't belong...
This is all so incredible. I want to explore forever.
Giant natural spring!
Okay actually not that giant. But real deep, and crystal clear.
Swimming where the Mayans swam! I'm so native!
Good news team: bargaining game back on point.
I have consumed an embarrassing amount of ice cream on this ship.
Also just ordered two meals for dinner. Oops.
This "magic" show was just a bunch of flashing lights and show girls. Highly disappointing.
Dramamine. Dramamine for days.
It's not a real vacation until I somehow injure myself.
Day 5
I love sleep. Sleep is my favorite thing.
It's 2pm and all I've done is eat a burrito and read. The dream.
WOW IT IS SO WINDY.
Phat chillin all day long.
Worship while watching the sun set over the Gulf of Mexico is pretty incredible.
I sat in a hot tub and watched Guardians of the Galaxy. Yaaaaaas.
Okay two-stepping on a rocking boat is not easy.
Over half our group is sea sick, so I guess we're going out with a bang?
Day 6
LAND AHOY!
I'm going to miss these people a whole lot.
Until next time, Camp Peniel.
Yep. That was my adventure onto a cruise ship. Lots of friends, lots of food, lots of fellowship. I'm pretty okay with it.
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