That's not to say I hate people (although I do, sometimes - but generally as a whole, in a love-the-sinner-hate-the-sin kind of way). I actually think people are pretty cool, in all our crazy diversity and different ways of processing the world. But I'm also an introvert, and for a long time, I let that define the way I interact with others and the way I view my own social sphere.
Coming into Roberts Wesleyan College as a freshman, a lot of that was turned upside down. I was living on campus in a dorm with my best friend and twenty-two other girls, and I was surrounded constantly by others: in classes, in chapel, at mealtimes, or just walking down the path to the next item on my agenda. At the time, it was an epiphany, a bit of a coming-out-of-my-shell moment.
Then sophomore year rolled around, I moved back home to save money, and everything regressed. I let my early morning work hours and my five-minute separation from campus restrict me, dividing me from campus life and everything that was going on with my friends, with events and clubs and general college life. In a lot of ways it felt like I was even more introverted than before, seizing onto my own natural inclination to retreat and bow out of responsibilities, out of public appearances, out of any kind of varied social life. My focus was purely academic, and while academia is always a good thing, without the tempering environment of what "college life" really is, in all its varying guises, I was missing out on a lot - spiritually, socially, and emotionally.
Don't get me wrong - it wasn't the new commuter status that was separating me from the college environment and community. It was my own reluctance to meet new people, embrace new experiences, and really get everything out of my college years that I could.
Last spring, my friend Brittany (another Brittany - they just seem to flock to me) hosted one of her annual campfire/swimming parties for our group of friends. It had expanded a little bit since I'd last hung out with them, and now included a girl I knew vaguely from a few previous gatherings - a transfer student from Alaska, of all places, who was super friendly and outgoing and apparently didn't require a two-year holding period before metaphorically embracing me as a new friend, as I sometimes feel I do. Somehow or another she'd discovered I liked to write, and before I knew it I was agreeing to apply for a position on the Beacon staff, the RWC student-run newspaper.
Whaaaaaaat. Involvement? Social... interaction? Being a... a LEADER, what is that?! Being on SALT? I couldn't even remember the words that went into that flavorful anagram (it's Student Association Leadership Team, I'm now aware).
A few weeks later, I got the email telling me I had been selected to be the Assistant Editor, under my new friend Victoria as Editor-in-Chief. For the entire summer, I didn't let myself think about it. I was excited to be working on a project like the Beacon with two people I knew would make an awesome team, but I was nervous about being on SALT, a very visual team on campus that interacts with tons of people and essentially helps foster the community at RWC. So, no thoughts. None. The occasional email and text regarding the Beacon or SALT were mere blips on my radar screen.
Then, suddenly, it was the penultimate week of August and it was time to start training week. I hiked to campus with my enormous purple backpack in much trepidation, uncertain of what to expect and terrified of all the new people and weird activities that I figured would be par for the "team building" course. (I wasn't wrong, but I really didn't have any reason to be worried).
Upon approaching the bus, shadowing a few of my friends who were also on SALT, I was faced almost immediately with an unfamiliar kid in a baseball cap who, in almost any other setting, I would immediately label as "dodgy trouble-maker who's always late to class" - and he introduced himself, asked my name, my year, was I on SALT, welcome to the team et cetera. The friendliest, most welcoming dude I've ever met, and I'd been ready to clam up and profile him entirely unfairly. (I might have been right about the trouble-making part, but it's all in good fun.)
The rest of those few days, spent at Lighthouse Christian Camp, were simultaneously the longest and shortest days of my life. They were packed with sunshine and lounging by the lake, hilarious games that broke the ice and put me at ease, and - most importantly - a group of people that I foresee will quickly become some of the best friends I'll make in college. By Tuesday, packing our stuff to return to Roberts, I was deeply regretting that I'd waited until my senior year to become truly involved and invested in my own college experience and the experiences of others.
I'll be honest: I wasn't looking forward to my senior year. All I saw ahead of me was hard work, the endless planning and drudgery of commuting (even if I am closer nowadays), and the big scary finality of graduating and have no concrete plans for where to go after that. I still see hard work, but now it's in conjunction with others who will support me and work with me in our various tasks, both shared and solo. I still see the mildly annoying requirements of commuting, but now I have a bike and a community on campus I'm eager to get to and be a part of. I still see graduation, a red letter day in May marked on my massive day planner that's already scarily full of dates and details, but now the time between here and there is an amazing lineup of opportunities, developing friendships, and crazy adventures that will, I believe, have a positive and long-lasting impact on who I am and where I fit into the fabric of this world.
This was a deep one, guys. Sorry. But in the process of one weekend, I feel like my entire set of priorities shifted and solidified, and I'm excited about it. Introversion and shyness are no longer the deciding factors in my life; they don't define me, and I won't let them become my weaknesses. Instead I'm going to cultivate a love of working with other people and being part of a huge social and academic community, and not let myself stumble into the trap of sealing myself from the outside world. Right now, RWC is my family, and I'm looking forward to helping support and nourish it in the unique ways that I can bring to the table.
Today, one of our SALTy folks, Randie, gave an awesome devotional on 1 Corinthians 12:15-26, which talks about the importance of the parts of the body (of Christ) and how they fit together/need each other, even though they're all different. I think I'm finally ackowleging my part in the RWC body. It's gonna be a great year.
Very well said. Profound personal insights.
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