Where Rubber Meets Mud

The rain was coming in torrents, shooting almost horizontally from the huge gusts of wind. In the night, lighting flashed in and out of the clouds like the sky was in a debate. Thunder rumbled in the ground beneath my feet. It was wonderful! This rain was a long time coming, but now that it was here, it made up for its absence in one big dramatic production.

All I wanted to do was run right through it. Skip down the walkway, climb up the hill, and dance in circles with arms stretched out, loving every drop that burst upon my skin. Such were the thoughts of my heart, but I contented myself with a few dashes across the patio behind my dorm. There were people more daring than me, practically rolling around in the sand of the volleyball court. Every person outside wanted to soak it up, just as the parched earth was surely doing itself.

I was restless and in the mood for adventure. As I made my way back inside the lobby, I spotted a friend of mine that I knew was probably feeling the same way. He always has something up his sleeve. Some people had already had their fill of the rain and were coming back inside. Even though he had just walked in, I didn’t believe that he was one of them.

“Tony!” I shouted out across the lobby. “You’re already done?”

 “Naaw!” he exclaimed in his Louisiana accent. “I’m not done!”

“I wanna GO!” I said over and over. I could hardly restrain myself from bolting out the door. “I wanna GOOOO!”

“Yah, man! Let’s do it!”

As we talked, I didn’t even know what we were actually making plans for. A-run-across-campus was about as adventurous as my mind was getting at the moment. I should have known that he had something better in mind. Within half a minute, I realized that I had just included myself in his plans to go mudding! The truck was leaving in a few minutes, so I had to dash to change right after I recruited a few more girls for the trip.

My heart was pounding. I had never done anything like this before. Was it dangerous? Would we be back on time? Is it even legal? I pushed past all these thoughts and my own churning stomach as we approached the shiny black truck. I imagined that it wouldn’t be so shiny once we got back. Should I, or shouldn’t I? My thoughts went back and forth as the time wound down. It was do or die. I decided to go for it and stepped up into the truck. It took a little more persuasion to convince the other girls to do the same.

As we drove off, I kept questioning the situation. I didn’t know where we were going. I didn’t know what to do once we got there. I didn’t even know the driver! Wow! This was pretty bold for me. I silently said a prayer that we would all be safe, and after that I stopped worrying.

The boys in the front seats were big talk; the girls in the back, easy prey. The guys kept bouncing lingo off each other to make this trip sound dangerous. Even though it may have made me a dud, I would translate their big fish and flat-out lies to the girls on either side of me. They were worrying enough as it was. This truck, I learned, was only two weeks old and there was no way that its owner would do anything to damage it, even though he tried to make us think things would get pretty crazy. This became one source of comfort for us girls.

As we turned off the main road and neared the query, my pulse quickened. Although the rain had stopped, the ground was still soaked. My Louisiana friend guided the driver through the black wilderness; between bushes, across massive puddles, up and down hills, then out to a clearing. Anticipation was rising. We were in the bottom valley of the query, with limestone walls rising up on one side and bushes lining the rest of the perimeter. Kevin, the driver, steadily made his way through this area, trying to get a feel for the ground below.

Suddenly, with one swift motion, the truck started spinning through the gravel mud. Whoops and hollers were mixed with high pitched screams as we turned in circle after circle. I was cracking up when the truck finally stopped turning. I checked in with the girls beside me. It wasn’t as bad as we thought. Yes, it was a rush, but at the same time, there was a surprising sense of control. I hadn’t felt endangered at all! The man behind the wheel had it covered. Tony and Kevin kept finding their way through impossible trails that seemed to come out of and lead to nowhere. Time and time again the truck would be launched in a tailspin, sometimes a little more crazy than others. A few times the ground was extra slippery and the truck bed got uncomfortably close to the limestone wall in mid-spin, but we would recover with a sign of relief and an unspoken resolution to steer clear next time.

All too soon, time was up. We started our way out of the winding trails and back on to paved road. Us girls talked about how it wasn’t nearly as terrible as we had been expecting, which prompted the guys to inform us that this had been an easy trip. The truck was new and the ground wasn’t muddy enough. Normally, things get a bit more out of control. However, these daredevils hadn’t had their fill, and we soon realized that we were not headed back to school. We were off to site B.

This location felt like Call of Duty mixed with Super Mario Cart. In the middle of a field, there was a concentrated section of long cement blocks piled high in huge stacks, row after row. It was almost as if they had been set up for this very purpose! They were giant and ominous, forming a daring course as we drove and slid our way through their halls. Is this really happening? I am really here right now? I could hardly believe it. It was like something you’d see in a video game, not an after-school excursion. The driving was more intense, but I still felt a brazen confidence that kept me from freaking out. Far from it, I was having a blast! Right turn, slide. Left turn, spin. Got a little close that time! We went in and out of this concrete city, down a couple ditches, then back up the other side. With a few more bumpy trails and jolts that were sure to wear down the shocks, the night drew to a close. For real this time. We drove straight from the field onto the main road and headed back to school with time to spare.

What a night! A spur-of-the-moment decision made for quite the adventure. If this was an easy trip as the guys said, then give me a crazy one! I’m hooked. For now, I’ll just have to wait around for another rain.

Just Trust

In the second semester of my senior year, my dad pulled me out to the back patio to have a talk. I could almost feel what was coming, but that didn’t make it easier…

All my life, I was the academic child. I loved school, loved learning, and always strove to do my best at everything I put my hand to. I invested who I was into my schoolwork. Even my friends were from my AP classes! Beyond our character traits, we also knew each other by our rank. I was number nine out of more than seven-hundred in my graduating class. Academics were part of my identity. That is why it was so hard when, towards the end of my grade school career, my dad told me that I may not be able to go to college.

How can this happen? Graduation is so close and I have been working for this my whole life! For the last two years I spent untold amounts of time researching colleges to find out where I should go. My heart had already been pulled to Southwestern. Now, after everything, I was being told that all of it was going to be taken away from me? This is not how it’s supposed to happen.

These were my thoughts and emotions as my dad explained that, since losing his job a month before, college didn’t look like a possibility. We would have to live off what we had left. If I wanted to go to college, I would have to support myself. I knew that there were students everywhere who did that, but I had no chance to plan for it. Still, I was determined to go. But even if I did find a job and worked through college, how could I afford a private one? My dreams looked like they were slipping away. As my dad stepped back inside the house, I remained in the backyard and tried to hold back the tears. I was unsuccessful.

In the middle of my distress, I remembered a word that a dear friend had brought to me from God. Just a week before, he came to my family with messages he said God had spoken to him. I recalled part of what he said to me… “You don’t need to worry about college. God will be with you.” Those words meant even more to me now. I had to trust God. That is easier said than done! Through the following week, emotions and worries tried to plague me at every corner. I would make myself stop and remember what God promised, and have faith that He would take care of me, whatever that meant.

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me.” Those are the words of Jesus in John 14:1. This time in my life made it more of a challenge than ever to not worry, but trust. It’s all I could do. About a week after the talk with my dad, I got a phone call from a strange area code. I was completely surprised to find that it was a lady calling from Southwestern, the school I wanted to go to. She told me, right then and there, that I had received the University Scholarship! This was huge! It would pay for all my tuition expenses for four years. I cannot even express the joy that filled me. All the glory belongs to God! It was Him who brought this. I made sure people knew it, too. That summer I had the opportunity to speak to my youth group about trusting God, giving the testimony of how He worked in my life. He is true to His word! I am so thankful for what He has done, and how He provided for me when it seemed like there was no hope. I pray that it continues to be an encouragement to others.

Share the Love

                Everyone wants to feel connected to their family. We want something to hold onto that reminds us of the love we share and the time we spend together. This may be found in Grandma’s flatware, Dad’s tool box, the antique game board or the tattered bedtime storybook that was finally put to rest itself. While these sentimental items can be tucked away in little boxes or displayed on a glass shelf, I find that what carries some of my dearest memories is something that cannot be polished, presented or preserved. It can only be re-created.

                It is my family’s tradition for the girls to gather in the kitchen and, through a group effort, make what we light-heartedly call “puppy chow.” For us, it is generations of festivity all packed into one tasty little morsel. It is present and to be expected at every family gathering.  It is the pre-show to the red, white and blue fireworks. It sits in a bowl next to the pumpkin pie and Watergate salad. Puppy chow is what gave us a white Christmas in the snowless land of south Texas. Even when the calendar gives us no excuse to break out the holiday spirit, we can follow a whim and make a day of it regardless. That is one of the things I love about it. No matter the time or season, puppy chow creates an environment that is sure to lift our spirits.

                It is like magic. There may be nothing special about the chocolate or powdered sugar itself, but there is something very special about the process. If we want it to be its best, it calls for teamwork. We each have roles that work in harmony, and we in turn are in harmony with each other. The time that we spend in the kitchen together is filled with smiles and laughter. We concentrate and are very careful while trying not to crush the delicate cereal squares as we stir in the melted chocolate, but we can’t take ourselves too seriously when we later shake these same squares in a big bag of powdered sugar. That is one of my oldest memories of making this fun desert. My mom would put powdered sugar in paper grocery bags and then pour in the still-warm squares. My brother, sister and I would parade, bags in hand, to the front yard and shake those things as hard as we could. Our little bodies were probably shaking just as much as the paper bags! It was for fun. It was time spent together. That was enough to make it a family tradition.

                When we make it still, we are just as giddy as we were then, laughing as we hold tight and try to keep from making a white cloud. That is what goes into it: laughter, along with tradition, family, love and honest-to-goodness fun. There is no constraint, no limit, and nothing to keep us from enjoying ourselves. We are all a part of it and so is anyone we share it with. Its ability to be shared is one of its greatest features. When we give people some of this dessert, we are sharing with them a bit of our family, our love and our memories. We give openly with the mindset that we are spreading joy to whomever will delight in it as we do. The recipe is no secret. It can be recopied as many times as needed. It does not have to be divided in an estate or fought over between sentimental siblings. It can go with each of us. The experience and the bonding tied to it are the things truly sought after. Old memories can be unlocked and new memories can be created. It is life.That is the beauty of “puppy chow.”