World Spins Madly On

I was the first grandchild to be born on both my mom's and dad's side of the family. So I don't want to sound cocky but...when I was born, I was kind of a big deal. There was a lot of excitement. Especially to my dad's mom, who didn't have any girl babies. She was really hoping that I would be a girl and then I was! She made a lot of quilts and blankets for me, and my favorite was a small, colorful quilt that I named "Quilty." Original, huh? Quilty is gender-neutral for those of you who may be wondering. 

I called my dad's mom D'Mama and she called me Lolly. No one else has ever called me that. We had so many adventures together. I think we were kindred spirits. I used to go stay with her and my grandaddy in Statesboro during the summers and she would take me to get ice cream and once she let me get a manicure. I got my nails painted royal blue and it was fabulous. She also took me to Tennessee to meet my great (maybe great-great? I'm not sure) Aunt Flossy and she took my brother and me to Disney World and then when I turned ten she took me on a cruise to the Bahamas. It was wonderful. 

Anne of Green Gables is one of my most favorite books ever. I re-read it last week and cried when it ended because it's just fantastic! D'Mama and Grandaddy went to Nova Scotia (the location of all the Anne books) when I was little and bought me all eight books in the series and an Anne doll. D'Mama realized way before I did that Anne and I are soulmates. 

So back to Quilty. I slept with Quilty every night growing up. Whenever I cried, I ran to my bed so that I could cry on Quilty. It was just so soft and I knew that it contained so much sweet love from D'Mama that I was super attached to it. But then, unfortunately, in middle school, it wasn't cool to sleep with a quilt that your dead grandmother made for you when you were a baby, so I had to force myself to stop sleeping with Quilty. Because of peer pressure. Isn't that the dumbest thing you ever heard? Now that I'm in college, I know multiple people who still sleep with blankets from their childhood and I don't love them any less for it. I have respect for them. But I was in middle school then, and very susceptible to what other people thought, so from then on I only slept with Quilty when I was really sad or scared. I still do it sometimes now. Quilty is not in my apartment with me, but it's in my closet at home and I always sleep with it the night before I go somewhere where I'll be for more than just a night or two. Just because it makes me feel cozy in my heart. 

D'Mama had lupus. I'm not quite sure when she got it, but she had it for a while. It caused her to have a lot of miscarriages when she was young, to lose a finger (I think it was her middle finger on her left hand but I'm not sure) and then she lost a ton of weight. I don't really remember her at a healthy weight; I only remember her looking like a ghost. It was scary but I didn't realize how bad it was. The cruise she took me on for my tenth birthday was only about four or five months before she died, but I had no idea that she was very sick at all. I just knew she was seasick the entire time we were on the ship and that she had to nap every afternoon, which was actually kind of awesome because I just got to roam around the ship while she was asleep in the afternoons. I ate a ton of soft-serve ice cream cones and rode the elevator to the bottom floor, where I'm pretty sure unattended ten-year-olds aren't allowed to go, but I never got caught. I used to pretend I was the captain's daughter and I lived on the cruise ship. I loved standing on the top deck and feeling the salt breeze blow through my hair and I felt invincible. And like a princess. At the same time.

But then D'Mama died the October of my fifth grade year. I actually remember the last time I talked to her. It was over the phone and at that point, my brother and I both knew that she was really really sick and somehow we knew that we would probably never get to talk to her again. But unfortunately, I don't remember what she said. I remember that my brother and I both cried a lot and she said she loved us so many times, but I don't remember what else she said. I really wish I could remember. 

My D'Mama was so special to me. We had such a sweet relationship and got along famously. There's a picture of her when she was sixteen in the dining room at my house and my dad says I look like her. That's the highest compliment I've ever gotten. 

Anyways, back to Quilty again. Quilty isn't very long or wide; it's a little shorter than me but wraps around me. However, D'Mama did make some quilts that were bed-size. One of them was the quilt that I used on my bed at Camp this summer. And sometime during the summer, I noticed that there was a hole in the quilt. And then I got really sad. Because these quilts are great physical reminders of D'Mama, but what am I supposed to do when they all fall apart? I'm a major pack rat and I like to keep things as long as possible. And when I have to throw things away, I get really emotional (when I was eight one of my pairs of shoes died and I cried all.night. My parents had to take a picture of me with them so that I could remember them forever). 

But what if all of the quilts she made fall apart and then I have nothing to remember her by? And then what if I forget her? She was sassy and funny and she lent her wedding dress to a ton of girls who didn't have very much money and she instilled in me a love of the smell of oranges and cloves and she thought Tellietubbies were evil. I don't want to forget her or any of the memories I have with her. But the truth is, I'm going to. I already have forgotten some. And I'm not quite sure how to cope with that or make it better. That's just one of the parts of life that's really terrible - the fact that you forget things. Not like homework, but like memories of your grandmother. 

But I guess that's just another result of sin in the world. Death exists, and then we forget people. I hate it when people say that someone dead will "live on in our hearts" because that's dumb and cheesy. They will not live on in our hearts because they will not be living. They will be dead. And we will be living and busy taking classes and painting walls and babysitting adorable tw0-year-olds and ironing shirts and swimming in lakes in Tennessee at midnight and vacuuming baseboards and making friends and drinking slushies and putting handles on dresser drawers and setting clocks to the right time and singing songs and sitting in desk chairs. It's harsh, but it's truth. Life is going to go on. 

But the thing is, during all of the craziness and the business, suddenly you're struck with a memory. Like sometimes when I go shopping and I'm trying on a shirt that's too tight on me and then I'm trying to take it off, I'll hear D'Mama's voice say "skin the cat" as she helped me take off shirts in dressing rooms when she took me shopping so long ago. 

So I guess I don't need to worry after all. It is sad that holes have to happen to quilts. It's even more sad that sin is in this world and people have to die. But that's why we have Heaven to look forward to and sweet memories of happy times to tide us over until then. I mean, sweet memories are obviously not nearly as wonderful as the real thing. Because the real thing is freakin awesome. But if I'm sad all the time then I will miss out on new memories and new friends and cloudwatching days and stargazing nights. And those are things that I don't want to miss. 

Memories of D'Mama will continue to pop up at random times in my life, and I cannot wait. Because I really like remembering her.

Love, 
Lauralicious

Cheers

About a year ago, I was moving in to college for the first time. I was super nervous and I didn't start packing until the night before (bad decision). And now I have an apartment (by the way, moving in to my apartment really makes me question my materialism) and my own room and a car and I know where most of the buildings are on campus and I just in general know what I'm doing a little bit more than I did when I came to school. It's crazy. College grew me so much. Actually, I think I blossomed last year. 

You know those obnoxious rebellious teenagers who do really dumb and exasperating stuff because they feel "different"? I never felt like one of those people. I always felt completely normal. I sometimes felt so normal that I wondered if I actually had a personality. But then when I got to college, something clicked or flipped or something, and I realized that I am different. In a good way. Isn't that so weird and cool? Also it turns out that I do have a personality. Whew! Thank goodness. 

Today, there are freshmen in colleges all over everywhere who are lifting heavy things and fighting with their parents and can't wait to be all moved in so their parents can go home. And then there are the freshmen who are fighting tears because they love their parents so much and don't want their parents to leave them in this strange place where the walls are cinder blocks (that was me). It's just so weird to think that just one stinkin year ago, I was there, actually very close in proximity to where I am sitting right now, moving a couch into an elevator. (Now I don't have an elevator unfortunately.)

During my first year at school, I learned so much. I learned where Kinard is, what a "Schilletter" is, how to sneak into a dorm building to visit a friend, when the best time to go to Walmart is, and the capital of Indonesia (it's Jakarta if you're wondering). And also I made a lot of friends who are super wonderful. They hug me when I'm sweaty and/or haven't showered in days, encourage me when I've done nothing good, read my blog, let me borrow their books, think I'm funny (even when I'm not trying to be), give me endless amounts of hugs, and they don't call me Laguna. Thank the Lord. 

You guys, I had the same hairbrush for eight and a half years. It died a very pitiful death just a few weeks ago. So what I'm saying is I don't like change. Not even a little bit. But going to college was a change that I was able to handle. It was definitely a little rough at first, and there were some rough spots throughout, but I think that's normal. 

I hope I don't sound like I'm super experienced now that I've been in college for a year, because I know I still have a lot to learn. Like apparently there's an iPhone app that has a map of campus? I found this out the other day. That would have been really helpful to me about a year ago had I a) had an iPhone and b) known this app existed. But it's cool. 

Also, I am so blessed. Seriously. I'm blessed to have a grandpa who lets me borrow his 1980s truck that works most of the time, and to have a dad to come rescue me when I think that truck is out of gas but actually it's not. I'm fortunate to have a mama who buys me Lucky Charms, my favorite sugar cereal ever, as an apartment-warming gift, and siblings who would rather help me move in than sit at home and watch tv. That's real love y'all. I'm so lucky to have so many lovely Camp friends, specifically the one who moved to Colorado and gave me a ton of apartment stuff. All I had to buy was a trash can. What I'm saying is, God has given me so many incredible people and opportunities in my life. And I thank Him every day for those. 

So here's to another year. A year of learning, growing, laughing, studying, eating, and maybe (hopefully) a little bit of sleeping too. 

Love,
Lauralicious

If A Potato Could Talk

When I was twelve years old and about to enter seventh grade, I started youth group at my church. I met a lot of people - both students in youth group and grownups helping - two of the grownups were Drew and Cheryl Miller, and they were awesome. Cheryl is super sweet but sometimes sassy and she is just so funny and I love her so dearly. And Drew was all the time hilarious but really intentional and thoughtful at the same time. He talked like Shaggy from Scooby Doo and he had slightly scrawny arms but he drank a lot of milk. He loved to tease me. I really don't know what it is about me, but people just love to tease me. I kind of like it now but when I was little I did not. At all. But Drew helped me to. 

Drew told me that my voice sounds like what a potato would sound like if it could talk. Which is definitely one of the most creative things anyone has ever said to me. Also, I just would like to say that if you search "funny potato" on Pinterest, a lot of legitimately funny things come up. It's great. 

So I met Drew when I was twelve. He and Cheryl volunteered with the middle school youth, and I got to see him a lot for the next three years. We went on youth retreats and went to youth group twice a week and got to spend some awesome time together. Drew was amazing. 

He was amazing because he used his humor to draw people in. Middle school was just not a good time for me. It was rough. I didn't talk to any boys (unless they were grown up, like Drew) and I was figuring out who my friends were but also I was super insecure, and therefore obnoxious. Also I had really weird "style." One time my hair frizzed up when it was raining outside and I thought it was curly...it definitely wasn't. But regardless of the weirdness of their hairstyles, or anything else really, Drew always included everyone, and did so by teasing them or making them laugh. He would connect people and someone who had just come to youth group for the first time suddenly felt included and present. And then when it was time to be serious, he was. He showed us an incredible zeal for Jesus. He had such devotion and admiration for the Lord. And I miss him.

Oh also something else about Drew is that he had Cystic Fibrosis. So every once in a while he had to go to the hospital in Charlotte but he was always always fine. 

So when I moved up to high school, I was sad because I wouldn't get to see Drew and Cheryl (aka Dr. Chewy Lander) as much. I still got to see them at youth group, just more briefly than I had gotten to see them in middle school. 

Cheryl came to my spring strings concert my freshman year of high school, and we were on the phone before it, working out times and such when Drew yelled from the background, "Break a leg!" And then after the concert, I was talking to Cheryl and told her to tell Drew I still had good legs. That came out of my mouth a little bit differently than I had intended for it to come out and I was worried that Cheryl would think I was trying to come onto her husband right in front of her. Silly fourteen-year-old Laura. 

And then just a few weeks after my strings concert, Drew had to go to the doctor in Charlotte again. Which was just kind of normal. I didn't think anything was really wrong because nothing was ever really wrong. I was at church one Sunday night while he was in the hospital, and Dr. Sinclair led a time of prayer for Drew, which I thought was sweet but not really necessary. So a lot of people prayed and I was getting a little restless and ready to go, when I did the unthinkable. I peeked. During a prayer. I opened my eyes and looked around me. And oh boy it felt so good. My eyes just needed to exercise a little since we had been praying for a while. I was sitting next to Mrs. Laurie, and I noticed with my newly exercised eyes something wet darkening the brown table we were sitting at, and it was coming from her eyes. She was crying. And then I felt so bad. This was serious. Because Drew might not be okay. 

And then he wasn't. He died a few days later. Drew, who I didn't believe was legitimately in bad condition, was gone from the Earth. I never got to hear his voice again or laugh at his chicken legs or hug him. 

Drew was special to my whole family. He really loved my little sisters because they were so cute and little, and he and my brother were really close since my brother was in middle school. My dad and brother and I went to the visitation before my brother's band concert and when I saw Cheryl there, I broke down and she had to hold me while I cried. While I was crying on her, I knew that I should be the one to help and take care of her, but I just couldn't stop crying. I couldn't control myself.

The next day was yearbook day at school, so I stayed at school until lunchtime, then my mom picked me up and my family went to the funeral together. At the funeral, I broke down on Bettina, who is a lot shorter than me, so it felt a little funny to hug her for a long time because I had to lean down so far. But she just rubbed my back and let me cry all over her. 

Drew had such an impact on my life. His love for middle schoolers was amazing and quite admirable. He shaped me so much and I would not be the same Laura I am today if I had not know Drew. I miss him terribly. But also I think that if he were still here, I would never have recognized the impact he had on me or appreciated him for it. Our youth group bonded so quickly and so closely after Drew's death because we all loved him so so much. We wouldn't have had a reason to bond if he never left. I have learned to trust God so much more because Drew died. He was so incredible that I was so upset when he died, because such a valuable and wonderful person was gone, but it taught me to just let God be God because He's got a reason for the things He does, even if they're really sad things. 

Cheryl got married again a few years later and moved to Columbia and now has a baby! I am so happy for her. Also, I'm going to see her this weekend! I cannot wait!! 

I just finished my freshman year of college, and Drew died at the end of my freshman year of high school. So last time I was a freshman. And it is so weird to think of all that has happened since then...

Since Drew died, I have gotten two pairs of Chacos, become lifeguard certified (and recertified), gone to Europe, become an honorary aunt AND an honorary Asian, gained ten pounds, graduated high school, gotten a checking account, started wearing makeup, read all eight Anne of Green Gables books, started a blog, gotten a new hairbrush (last week!), developed an affinity for diet Coke, learned how to mix CDs, started drinking coffee, learned to drive, gotten stung by a jellyfish, worked three summers (so far) at the most wonderful Camp on Earth, gotten a senior superlative in high school (Drew would have loved it), received sweet-tea flavored lotion as a Christmas gift, learned to swing dance, become a member of the Haile family, written a children's book, built a house, discovered what my favorite flower is, gone to prom, gotten contacts, made a lot of sweet new friends, thrown up eighteen times, gotten a cell phone, started talking to myself on a regular basis, and (kind of) learned how to fold fitted sheets.

I miss Drew so much. I sometimes go visit his grave and just think about how much has changed. I know that he loved me so much (even if he did compare my voice to a potato) and I love him so much too. I cannot wait to be with him again in heaven, because, like we sang at our middle school summer retreat: "Ain't no party like a holy ghost party cause a holy ghost party don't stop!"

My favorite hymn is one we sang at Drew's funeral. It's Whate'er My God Ordains is Right and it's amazing. Here is a link to the words. 

Whate'er my God ordains is right
He never will deceive me
Though sorrow, need, or death be mine
I know He will not leave me

And so, friends, if a potato could talk, that is what she would say. 

Love, 
Lauralicious

The Best Thing

I miss Camp right now more than I have ever before. Real life is just no fun. There is no rest hour and there are more annoying people here. There are flirty people and people who won't give me the time of day (don't I sometimes need to know what time it is?) and people who try to make me feel sorry for them all the time when I just don't. I refuse to because that's dumb.

You guys don't want to meet post-Camp Laura. She's always cleaning her room but never seems to make much progress and then she cries but doesn't know why and she doesn't hang out with people. It's very confusing. Even for her.

So to cope with it, I'll just talk about Camp a lot. 

Every summer at Camp I learn some kind of lesson. It's always something I need to learn but pretty unpredictable. The first summer, I learned how important it is to respect yourself. I mean, I'm no Aretha Franklin with the whole R-E-S-P-E-C-T thing, but I just had never realized before that it's necessary to respect yourself. And then I met a cabin of eight teenage girls who hated me. They hated me. And I let them. If I had respected myself, they would have seen that and respected me in turn and I think that week would have unfolded a little differently.

Then last summer, I learned how much I need Jesus, which I talked about a lot in this post. I learned about my relationship with Him, how it's not just Him giving up His life for a girl who sometimes eats too many cookies and doesn't always study adequately for exams and tends to turn awkward life situations into slightly entertaining tweets. No, it's Jesus completely giving up everything for a girl who sins. Solid sin. Straight up, y'all. This is a girl who purposely avoids perfectly kind people who she doesn't want to talk to at the moment, and that is just not very nice at all. A girl who, once, kind of accidentally sang the f-word in front of a baby. This right here is a girl who sins and knows it, but doesn't even know how bad it is. She thinks she's doing the world a favor by existing. This is a girl with a big head. Last summer taught me how clueless I was to how much Jesus really gave up for me, and how I'll never fully understand all that entails. 

Once I realized that both of my past summers have held a lesson for me, I got really excited to find out what this summer's would be. Nerdy? Yes. So...drumroll for what I learned this summer...

I learned what it means to be a child of God. I got to see an image of that daily. My campers were such a great picture of that to me - just getting to observe their easy dependence on me was so amazing. After knowing me for minutes, they felt comfortable asking me to take them to the bathroom, letting me wipe their bottoms, complaining to me about everything they hate, and telling me all about their lives. They didn't feel the need to know all about me and what I stand for and where I come from and how old I am. They just knew that I was there for them, so they let me do what they needed me to do. They expected that I knew how to deal with them and they loved me from the minute they arrived at Camp. It was crazy.

When I'm at Camp, I'm either about to be sobbing all over everybody or delirious with joy. And during those hard times when I just had to close my eyes for a second and not say anything because I was afraid of very mean words coming out of my mouth, I prayed that God would make me like a little child, of my strength and wisdom spoiled, seeing only in His light, walking only in His might. Because that was the only way to survive those moments when I honestly could not imagine feeling physically and emotionally worse than right then. I prayed that in little moments, and then, during rest hour, I read God's word, which calmed me, and did actual journaling, where I constantly asked God to help me to learn from my campers and to lighten up and to enjoy my time and to love Him and to trust Him the way my campers were modeling that love and trust to me.

So that's what I learned. 

If you ask me what I did this summer, I'll tell you that I worked at the Outdoor Lab, which houses Camps Hope and Sertoma, for adults with special needs and underprivileged kids.  And then I'll awkwardly trail off with, "yeah, I love it" and probably smile a little bit. 

But what I'll mean is all of that above. I learned what it looks like to lean on His loving breast, where a weary soul can rest. I got to experience some super stressful situations. When I got home this week, my brother told me that my eyes looked "really sad and tired." ...so that's encouraging. But with all that stress came the amazing comfort of my Savior, in a depth that I'd never reached before. I think that if I had sat at home and slept until 12 every day and read Anne of Green Gables seven times and made blackberry jam all summer, I wouldn't have really been super stressed out. But the intensity of the stress I felt allowed me to feel so much more repose and tranquility in my Savior. I learned how to rest when I wasn't sleeping. It was amazing. 

I miss each of my campers always. I miss being farted on and force-feeding peanut-butter and jelly to a girl who said probably two words all week and getting bitten and not having time to poop. I miss it all. 

I miss being so stressed I feel like I'm about to throw up all the time. I miss people jumping on me and saying hilarious things that I can't wait to tell to my co-counselors later. 

And I can't wait to go back. 

Love,
Lauralicious