All Things Grow

I lay on the blue carpet in my roommate Janie’s room with my Macbook in front of me, looking up at Janie as she scowled at her computer screen. It was a Sunday afternoon, and we had encountered a small technical difficulty that was preventing us from working on our homework

“It’s still not working.” She sounded ready to give up.

“Did you try restarting the airport?” I asked. I had already decided not to get too worked up over our unreliable internet connection.

I checked to make sure that the words “The Shire” were still checked on my computer screen. “The Shire” is what we decided to name our two story white house. Despite the fact that all of my roommates were college students, it reminded me somewhat of a grandmother’s house, full of homemade baked goods and couches covered in handmade quilts.

To further formalize the naming our house, we titled the airport connecting us to our wireless Internet “The shire,” and gave it the password “Wefoundjesus,” not because we were Christen (though we were), but because of a wrinkled handmade drawing one of my roommates had found behind my bedroom door the day we moved in. This picture of a man with longish hair looked somewhat like famous interpretations of what Jesus supposedly looked like. It was strange that this photograph was the only thing left from the former tenets, especially since we had met the former tenants. The mental image of one of the rambunctious guys who had, according to our landlord, punched a bunch of holes into the walls and who also had invited us to come to their party when we came to tour the house taking the time to artfully sketch out a very detailed picture of the messiah was humorous. In a fit of giggles, we framed the drawing and hung it on our living room wall.

“I am not going to give myself a headache over this. I hope they don’t expect us to pay for something that isn’t working. I personally will not be paying for this.” Janie said.

I smiled to myself. The English and Journalism double major who often defined herself as a nerd clearly wasn’t a pushover. Her bluntness and demands for justice in all situation were qualities about her that I admired, as well as the fact that she had introduced me to more than one amazing books during the span of our friendship.

I heard the familiar rattling of the kitchen door and heard two of my other roommates, Ariel and Andrea, make their way inside. They danced into Janie room, which was currently the only room with a light on in our house. Our fifth roommate, Alex, was home as well, but she was upstairs inside of her room.

“How was Jubilee?” I asked as I looked back and fourth between Ariel and Andrea faces. I expected them to look tired after the long trip but their eyes were wide and full of stories.

“It was amazing!” Ariel exclaimed, tucking a strand of her long reddish-brown hair behind her ear. She had recently dyed it red because she wanted her hair to more closely resemble the little mermaid’s hair color, as well as to commemorate one of her favorite childhood movies, Anna of the Green Gables.

Andrea and Ariel told us about Jubilee, a christen conference aimed at telling college students how they could use their professional skills and talents to better the world.

I pawed through the booklet they brought back with them, showing all that was offered at this conference. I saw sessions hosted by authors, entrepreneurs and non-profit-organizations. There were sessions dedicated to art majors, education majors and student athletes. There were sessions for African-American students, Hispanic American students, and sessions about immigrants. There was even a season titled “Why you should care about Arcade Fire, Mumford and Sons and Taylor Swift,” that aimed to talk about pop culture in our society.

I listed to Ariel and Andrea talk about how they were inspired to go change the world after meeting and listing to interesting people all weekend. I stopped trying to fix the Internet and reveled in their stories. The coverversation changed topics as Ariel, in an attempt to get Janie to go change the world herself, started talking about project. I tried to convince her to go a bit too, but I secretly admired the fact that Janie was not so easily persuaded.

Lately, I had become the type who approached everything new as if it were to be grand, life changing and important. This was a stark contrast to the me a few years ago, who wanted familiarity and safety above all else. People are so interesting; in the way their stories interplay, in the way even negative situations can create positive change. Lately, if anything seemed useful or interesting, I would sign myself up for it. I suppose that new mindset was how I found myself living with four strangers as roommates in an apartment in Chicago for 10 weeks the previous summer, with the goals or growing closer to God and learning to live a better story.

A lot of people think journeys are outside of themselves. A character finds themselves in a new place and is pushed to do something adventurous. The real story isn’t about any of that. It’s about what happens inside of a person when the very foundation of their world is pulled apart, and the character has to figure out what’s still important. The physical journey only mirrors the mental one. The real story always talks place outside of “the shire,” and focuses on inner bravery that grows as a result of what happens inside of a person heart.