dancing nostalgia makes me brave

(This is one of those nights that I feel guilty blogging because I am so behind in catching up with IRL friends. Yes I did just use a cheesy bloggy term. One that is so cliche I feel stupid expounding upon it. But just in case you have enough of a "RL" that you aren't well-versed in blog life, IRL= in real life. To the list of people whose names are chillin' next to a blue dot on the phone I'm terrible at, I apologize for the implied negligence. I do *have* pockets of free time like this to chat-- only right now it's 2 a.m. (3 a.m. for most of you on that list of voicemails) and, ironically, the friendliest thing is not to call you. I also have them in the morning, when most of you have RL jobs. Sometimes phone tag is better than nothing, though, so expect your very own missed call tomorrow morning.)

I'm not one for nostalgia.

That's a lie.

I'm plenty nostalgic.

The term itself makes me nostalgic, as it prompts me to recall Noelle's first assignment from the then-evil Dr. Tweedy, whom we grew to love and respect, with whom I later conversed confidently, who still sticks out as an all-time favorite and not just because he bequeathed me with the nickname "Little Rock." I recall the early days of college and our dough eyes.

Time changes things. I like change.

I remember my last night in Custis--after the community pot of mac and cheese, after the water gun fight, after the big bed was pulled apart and the furniture restored to the arrangement in which we'd found it-- I lay reflecting on the first school year in far, far away.

It slipped forward audibly. "Man, it's been fun."

Noelle accepted my prompt and we reminisced aloud.

Birthdays, Roses, Einstein Bagels.

I stared at the ceiling, covered in now-familiar shadows, awed by the familiarity of it all. Nine months before I lay there, letting tears fall fast over how foreign it seemed. Not just the shadows. All of it. I made the tears fall silently, so as to not alarm the stranger across the room.

All of the sudden it was May and I'd made it through and I'd loved it and I'd lived it and I wished that the doubtful, scared girl from August could be there to know how beautiful the experience was. Of course, that girl was there to feel the fullness of the once-impossible mission accomplished, it just took 9 months.

Time had changed things. I liked change.

I watched shadows dance and we continued to spout out favorite moments.

Nana's house. Valentine's day dance party. Family visits.

The light on the fire detector blinked red, steady, the same way it had on the first night. I lay there glad the overwhelmed girl of August persevered. She could not have known how rewarding it would be to recall the moments on the last night. But she held tight to the pillow and the possibility that there would be moments worth recalling. Mostly she held tight to the promise of the Provider that'd lured her far from home.

Upperclassmen. Extrooms. The Baybay. Power Uno. Axis. More dance parties.

He had come through. He said He would.

August tears didn't well up because I necessarily doubted God, but because of where believing Him brought me. May tears welled for the same reason. The emotion behind the tears had changed.

Time changes things. I like change.

Time gives perspective. Perspective fuels perseverance. Perseverance results in reward.

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Last week while the mom and son ran errands, she promised him a paintball gun if he could raise his grammar grade to an A. Jack immediately informed me of this deal as he passed off a bag of groceries. I got busy unpacking while he explained every reason he wouldn't be getting the gun. It wasn't until I turned for more freezer items that I noticed his already red eyes filling with fresh tears. "What's the problem, bud?"

He was angry I even had to ask. "Do you realize what it would take for me to make an A? I'd have to get a 100 on about every quiz. It's impossible and she KNOWS it."

"Or maybe she believes highly in you and is making you a great offer so you'll believe highly in yourself."

"No, she's just saying no. I'm NOT doing it, I can't do it. It's stupid."

"Okay, but it sounds to me like you're saying no."

"It's impossible, Sadie!" His eyes were filled to overflowing, frustration tipped the brink. The freezer alarm sounded, the moment full of alert.

I turned to shut the freezer and returned to the stare down. "You can do it, Jack. Sure it will take work, but if you do your best, your absolute best, it's possible."

"I am doing my best, but she is saying no! Besides, I know my best won't be an A."

"This is your best? Saying 'I can't' before you even get started clearly is not your best and your mom knows that."

"But even if I do try it won't be an A."

"Alright, Jack. Give up. But if you don't get a gun, it won't be because your mom said no or because your best wasn't good enough. It will be because you decided it wasn't worth the effort or the wait."

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The reasons why freshman year had been worth the effort kept spilling forth from within.

DC visits. Refugees. FYE. Quirky UWW campus life. Mario Kart. Events for attending. Excursions.

I was overwhelmed by the reward.

Dares with Meredith. Visiting Naptown. Hallway life of Custis. Power Frisbee. (resulting in even more dancing).

I was not too overwhelmed to anticipate more, future payoff. "Can you even imagine next year? I can't wait!"

The enthusiasm we'd shared while reminiscing diminished as Noelle delivered her response. "Yeah... It's going to be different, though... you know?"

She was right. Things did change come sophomore year. By nature of time passing, things changed. They continued to change. The title of that 7th Heaven episode intrigued me back in 1999, when I really had no idea what it meant--

nothing endures but change.

Something else endures. Someone else endures. That sounds trite and catchy.

But by May, I'd lived it and I was ready for more. Those 9 months redefined change for me. Still undeniably scary for me, it was nevertheless proven an avenue by which to learn a new facet of God's character. The promise of one provides the payoff for the other.

The gun pays off the hard-earned A.

I'm not one for nostalgia. Only because the definition-- "a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to some past period or irrecoverable condition" -- implies a desire to return to stay. To escape the present. In fact, I am least nostalgic in the less enjoyable seasons because I'm aware of the dangers of sugarcoated "glory days." It's a temptation I do my best to avoid because when it comes down to it the glory days are ever before me. It's futile to get nostalgic, seeking better days in the past-- they are, by definition, irrecoverable. There's nowhere to go but forward and it's too important to remember that in the less enjoyable days to get caught in nostalgia. There was a period of a few months there that going back to these sorts of photos left me feeling conflicted, burdened, too nostalgic, bad nostalgic.

But I do let myself get nostalgic in the good times, when I'm present enough to recognize the past for what it always was-- precedent. I got on facebook yesterday, having freshly recounted my life story to a new group of people I love and trust, a community I needed to feel at peace with my pursuit of the journeyman program, of a new phase of life. I told them about how I've been so blessed since graduation to have a home and a supportive family and encouraging, continuing long distance friendships. But I admitted I had a slump-- I got lonely, unenthused (made that word up...), apathetic, doubtful. As I prepared to share those things I realized that pinpointing them and doing church with friends I am confident to share them with means I am moved to a new season. I am reenergized as I realize He's answered that simplest of prayers I kept reciting, restore to me the joy of your salvation and renew a steadfast spirit within me, to sustain me. So I got on facebook yesterday and started at the first album. Freshman year pictures made me glad, not burdened.

That's when I remembered the shadows dancing and the last late night chat of the school year and how Noelle's words provided context to that moment flooded by memories. Things would be different. She was pulling me back to present enough to remind me to cherish the remaining time I had, not to lose them to nostalgia. Last night I felt content enough at present, cherishing this new season enough to spend time briefly reviewing what I'd learned before without feeling compelled to return to stay.

I didn't enjoy the return to freshman memories made because I miss it (though I sometimes do) or want to go back (I mean, I'd visit Fredericksburg fa sho) or because I'm not excited about the future. They get me pumped for the future. Because the memories these pictures capture did, at one point, lay in the future.

And so, I'm plenty nostalgic in that I like to return to a period, but just for a visit. Because going back reminds me of what I couldn't have known then-- what was at stake. What I would've missed if I hadn't kept my palms open for receiving the change, the grace, the new facet of Character revealed.

Nostalgia makes me brave.

It's akin to dancing in that way.

(shameful Grey's Anatomy reference).