On Embracing Adventure, Summer 2015, and My Last First Day

A little more than three months ago, I slapped a meticulously packed (48 pounds, to be exact) suitcase down at the United Airlines ticket counter, boarded my plane, and took off with more than a little apprehension to work at Moose River Outpost in Jackman, ME.

I made a friend during my O'Hare layover. 

I had accepted the job as office manager a few months before, excited about the idea of experiencing the East Coast and growing in a new place. As the time to leave grew closer, however, the knot in the middle of my stomach grew larger. I have never identified as an "outdoorsy" person -- my favorite thing to do in Montana is cuddle in with a warm blanket, a hot drink, and a movie or book -- so the idea of spending two months at a place that possesses a desire to "Seek Christ, build community, and embrace adventure" filled me with trepidation. Seek Christ? That's my favorite. Build community? I'm a senior in the dorms for just that reason. Embrace adventure? Um. No, thank you. I was convinced I was going to be the clumsiest person there (probably true), the most un-athletic (definitely true), and the one staff member that just didn't fit in.

Little did I know it, but that little camp on that big stretch of land in the very, very middle of nowhere was about to capture a large chunk of my heart.

Katahdin cabin! My room was on the first floor.

It wasn't my comfort zone, and that's okay. I promised myself I would say yes more than no--that I would attempt to embrace the whole motto, and especially focus on embracing adventure. So I did. I went swimming and stand-up paddle boarding and tubing on Heald Pond (among other things, Maine's naming standards are silly, so the 80 acre body of water is not large enough to be a lake). I drove 15 passenger vans down the highway at night and didn't hit any moose. I learned how to mountain bike, earning my "basic" and "advanced" awards.  I stayed up until 2am playing Mission Impossible with campers. I grabbed a paddle and white-water rafted the Kennebec river in a boat full of 13-year old boys. I said yes.

Heald Pond.

And yes, my perfectionism spun out of control. This may not come as a shock, but it turned out that I am not very good at rock climbing or mountain biking or playing Polish Ping-Pong. But you know what? Failure is not fatal. It took me all summer to learn how to jump logs with my bike, and there are still scrapes and scars lingering on my legs to prove it. By the end, though, I did it.

So I'm not the best mountain biker, okay? 

What I found in the midst of the journey really surprised me. As I "embraced adventure" with some very patient co-workers -- who, as is often said at MRO, "got on my bandwagon and pushed" -- community was built organically. Smoothly, naturally, it made sense to talk about seeking Christ together. 

While I was hiking to the Attean overlook with my female co-workers,

The amount of trees in Maine still slightly overwhelms me.

road tripping to Quebec City,

Old Town! A trip entirely scheduled around when and where to eat (answers: often and anywhere). 

going on a six-hour mountain bike ride for our masters awards, 

We're the cool kids. Thanks for putting up with me as I cried the whole way home.

and slipping and sliding down the most unregulated water slides in the country,

I found my heart slowly
quickly
abruptly
falling in love with a place and people that seek Jesus passionately, build community authentically, and embrace adventure wholeheartedly.

It was a summer where I felt completely accepted for who I am. A summer where I felt affirmed in who and what God has called me to be and do. I didn't want it to end.

But a little less than three weeks ago, I slapped an even more meticulously packed (49 pounds, to be exact) suitcase down at the Portland Airport, and I took off back for the West Coast.

Now I find myself in Bozeman for my last semester at Montana State University. In some ways, it feels like I've always been here. There are many, many moments, though, where I feel like I've blinked and missed four years. Yesterday was my last first day, bringing with it all the stress and expectations that school typically does. I'm balancing my schedule between work and all the senior year reading I have to do while simultaneously making study abroad advising appointments and filling out graduate school applications.

It would be tempting, I think, to just check out. To put my head down and work my way down the list of all the requirements I have to complete before I leave here in December. I've been waiting so, so long for seminary to start that the tangible reality presented by applications makes me want to coast my way to next fall.

I was reading a book earlier in the week called In Search of Deep Faith. In it, Jim Belcher, who tells the story of his family's pilgrimage through Europe learning about pillars of faith, writes, "For the person with a calling, education plays an important role -- it prepares, it shapes, it guides and it empowers" (Belcher, 131).

Good o' Belcher reminded me -- perhaps even convicted me -- of an important truth: The education I receive this semester, from both my classes and from the people around me, will play an important role in what God has for my future. It's going to prepare me. It will shape me. It will guide and empower. These next four months have significance.

I think, to put it in MRO terms, this last semester at MSU will be an adventure.

I'm going to embrace it.