Week 7: Memoir

I don't know if I recall my very first time away from home alone, but the summer of 2007 held one of the most special trips alone. I was 17 and naiive. Young and dumb. Carefree and blind to anything but my easy childhood in rural South Dakota. But all of that was about to change. My best friend at the time, Megan, was incredibly religious and went on "service trips" every summer to various places in the U.S. I was an easily moldable and people-pleasing type at the time, so I was convinced in just a few conversations to join the group.

After a 17 hour bus ride filled with delirious moments and several embarrassing photos, we pulled into a Tennessee elementary school parking lot. Loads of other high school kids piled out of other buses, "okay, this is much bigger than I thought it would be." The next week was filled with waking up early in a classroom filled with air mattresses and other girls from my group, showering in ice water in the portable shower campers, throwing on clothes I didn't mind ruining, heading to the gym where we packed our lunch for the day, praying as a giant group, and heading out on the buses to our individual work sites. This is where the real growth and experience came. At first, I was really bummed when Megan or anyone else I knew wasn't in my work site group. I was very good at being quiet and reserved in those days. But this ended up being the best thing for me. Completely out of my element, away from anyone I knew, and working on a house I couldn't imagine living in, I was finally free from the material bullshit of society and those occupying it. It was liberating and inspired a feeling I wish I experience every day of my life. The 15 other group members and I got very close over the next week while we worked hard together to make one old Tennessee man's house a bit easier on the eyes from the outside and the inside. What I learned that week, at an age when I was blind to what wasn't right in front of me, is something that I'll never forget. I learned what it feels like to be completely at peace, free from anything but the essence of life, harboring the beauty of simplicity.