Courage (To Kill a Mockingbird Blog)

            Sitting in my cozy chair by my window, I watched as the predicted storm blew in from the west. It was going to be a doozey they said, so I figured this would be the perfect day of my spring break to dive into To Kill a Mockingbird for a second time. I had read this novel before (like I’m sure many of you had), but I was really excited to get a new perspective on it as a 19-year old college student as opposed to a 13-year old middle schooler.  

            With the storm now in full-force with thunder blaring, I came to a part that truly made an impact on me at that moment. Atticus says to Jem, “I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.” In this quote, Atticus refers to Mrs. Dubose’s insistence to beat her morphine addiction before she died, just so she could die a free woman.

            After reading that part of the book, I couldn’t help but pause and think about what that really means. This old lady had a choice between dying pain-free but attached to a drug or wracked with pain but attached to nothing at all. She chose the hardest route possible. Just the same, Atticus chose the absolute hardest route in defending Tom. Yes, he was required to do so, but the extent to which he tried to win the case was the bravest part of all. He endured ridicule and even the ridicule of his children and did it with a wholeheartedly.

            In the beginning of the book, Scout doesn’t understand why they can’t just lie to their friends about why their dad is defending Tom. She has no concept of courage and doing the right thing just for the sake of doing the right thing. But by the end of the novel, I think Scout truly understands that courage is something that she must have in order to become a ‘grown-up’. I think when she led Boo back to the Radley house, she showed that she had earned her ‘badge of courage’ per say.

            I know this blog isn’t necessarily supposed to analyze the characters, but I just found the growing of Scout’s courage to be something so interesting that I couldn’t help but talk about it. The whole time I was reading the novel I couldn’t help but grow so fond of Scout’s benevolence toward things that no one else cared for, and how she could come to defend them. By the time I finished the book, I seriously wished that there were a sequel that could show how she turned out in her later years from having Atticus as a father through all of her childhood experiences.

            I guess I had never thought of courage as something we all have to learn during our growing up. We have to have it in order to not be afraid of the monsters under the bed, and so that we can do what’s right even if we don’t want to. Although she may just be a little girl, I think the story she ‘tells’ can inspire others to have just a tiny bit of courage too. 

Fear is Overcome (Sketch #5)

As I sat in anticipation, I could feel the cold sweat beading up on the back of my neck. The sweet-smelling hairspray I had used this morning now gave me a nauseous feeling in my stomach. I was suddenly aware of an intense twitching in my right foot, and my mouth seemed to be as dry as the Sahara. “You can do this” was the mantra I had been continually telling myself for the past couple of weeks, but now it seemed to be a futile cliché. As if in a faraway place, I caught the ending of the announcer saying “… and now I present to you, our Valedictorian of 2011, Taylor Holstrom!”

            As I slowly walked up the stairs for what seemed like ages, I couldn’t help but recall how much I feared public speaking. It was just one of those things that I told myself I would never do in my lifetime. I’m just not the best person for it. Even when I get called on in class my face turns a bright red out of fear of saying something wrong. So when my vice principal told me that I would be speaking at graduation because I was the valedictorian, I was more horrified than honored. I pictured me tripping up the stairs, not remembering anything I was going to say, then just running off of the stage in tears. The speech that was now on sweaty note cards had been gone over hundreds of times, but it still didn’t seem to calm the nerves that I was feeling. At this point of my mental turmoil, I had made it to the podium.

            I began to get situated as my heart rate climbed. Seeing those couple thousand people certainly didn’t help. The lights were bright, but I was able to focus on one person in the crowd: my mom. I could see her bright smile and proud glow from a mile away. After a few deep breaths, I began to speak. “If I have learned anything from my past 13 years at Trinity…” I shakily began. But, with each passing sentence, I grew more confident. I was doing it! I was giving a speech to all of these people and not failing miserably.

            As I began to near the end of my speech, I think I had one of those outer body experiences. Well, maybe not to that extent, but I began to really notice the implications of what I was trying to impart to my fellow graduates. “…and I hope you will not let your fear of failure keep you from attempting to achieve something greater than you could imagine.” At that moment, I realized I had done just that. I had seriously thought that my speech would be a huge disaster and that I would ruin graduation for everyone. But because I was somehow able to overcome that fear (I’m pretty sure it was mostly because my mom encouraged me through my multiple panic attacks), I achieved something I never thought I would be able to do.

            By the time the audience’s applause hit my ears, I knew that this would be a moment that I would forever keep in my memory bank. Not because I graduated, or because I had the privilege to speak as the valedictorian, but because I was able to do something I never thought possible. And as cliché as you may think it sounds, I know that it is a moment that has made me the much more confident person I am today. 

Meeting Mohammed and Alia (ESL Blog #4)

I don’t know anything about baseball. I know plenty about football, basketball, and even soccer. But definitely not baseball. So when on our fourth meeting Mohammed asked me to explain baseball to him, I was definitely in a rough spot. I mean, every American understands baseball right? As we sat in 1873, the TCU baseball game was playing in the background. I quickly pulled out my iPhone and looked up any basic rules I could possibly find. Luckily, I’m a fast learner and was able to get a vague grasp on the sport in a few minutes.

            I’m positive the words that came out of my mouth were something like “Well, the guy with the bat tries to hit it, and if he doesn’t, he gets a thingy, and then there’s the people in the, uh, outside…” Pretty awkward right? Well after about 5 minutes of fumbling, I sighed and admitted my ‘failure’ as an American. Luckily, Mohammed and Alia just laughed and admitted that they don’t know anything about soccer, which is what everyone in the Eastern world understands.

            Luckily, we moved past this funny moment, and then began to talk about their weekend during which they went to Fossil Rim. They explained that this place is a drive-through zoo where they have zebras, giraffes, and even ostriches! The crazy animals were the most interesting part for me, but the couple was most interested in the fact that they could see farmland. “Living in the desert like we did in Saudi, you only get to see dry ground and maybe some small weeds in the city, but here we saw wheat growing and bright green trees everywhere! What a blessing.”

            I guess I had always considered seeing greenery, like trees and flowers, to be a common feature of everyone’s life. But like many things in my life, like thinking I am familiar with American pastimes, I guess I took it for granted. One thing I know I take for granted is that I grew up learning English. It is amazing to me how many people want to come to America just so they can learn our language. I know that it is one of the most popular languages in the world, but many people speak Chinese, Arabic, or Spanish to name a few. Yet, many Americans would never attempt to learn another language because they don’t feel that it is necessary. It’s hard to tell if this is a symptom of our language or one of our culture. This ESL experience has helped to open my eyes to another culture, and to the fact that I have never once attempted to seriously learn another language. I hope that throughout my next 3 years of college I can attempt to do just that. 

Learning Humility (Sketch #4)

When you think of a mission trip, what comes to mind? Maybe you picture a group of missionaries who dedicated their lives to build wells in desolate parts of Africa. Or maybe you think of a group of good Samaritans who head to Haiti for a month to rebuild the entire island. I know for a fact these are the types of things my 15-year old mind pictured when I decided to go on my church’s New Orleans mission trip for the first time. I think I secretly envisioned myself as this big hero who came in just at the right time to help some desperate people. You might be thinking that I had an abnormally large ego for going on a trip to help others, but trust me that is something I realized very quickly as we entered New Orleans after our 12-hour drive.

When we arrived into the city, I began to notice how devastated it truly was. Even in 2007 (2 years after Hurricane Katrina), there was still so much re-building that needed to be done. I couldn’t wait to start painting, tiling, and sheet rocking in order to leave my mark on the city forever. Despite these high hopes, I was crushed when I realized that I was assigned to the non-construction team that would just be serving food to the homeless shelter all day. And all day meant from 4 a.m. until 9 p.m. My high hopes began to sink as my bad attitude began to rise.

The first morning, my bleary eyes tried to stay open as I continuously stirred the giant pot. I looked at my watch: 4:30 a.m., and I had already been awake for 45 minutes. In my head, I kept thinking that this was all-too miserable of a job to be assigned, especially when I could be out there building and making a direct impact. I couldn’t help but keep a giant scowl on my face to match my crummy attitude. When I look to my right side however, I see Loretta. Her smiling face glows as she serves meal after meal onto the trays, talking to everyone in a cheery voice with the pep of the Energizer Bunny. Witnessing her vigor for such a seemingly menial job made me very curious. I decided I would find out her story so maybe I could share in some of her joy.

Loretta began to explain that as a native to New Orleans, her home was completely destroyed by Katrina. Having nowhere to go, she stumbled upon the Union Gospel Mission homeless shelter. “I just felt at home with these people, so I couldn’t just leave ‘em here for some meaningless ole’ job and an empty house,” she said with a humble smile on her face. So, she decided to stay at the shelter as the on-staff cook as opposed to moving to a new place to live. On a normal day at the shelter, she begins by cooking breakfast at 4 a.m. and doesn’t end her day until she finishes cleaning up at 9 p.m. For all of this hard work, she gets free living and food, but no pay. She is essentially still homeless and working more than 100 hours per week, Sunday to Sunday.

Upon hearing this, my mouth began to get very dry as tears began to well up in my eyes. How could I even begin to compare my selfish ‘mission’ to Loretta’s service-filled life? My mind was blurry as it was at that early hour, but I still couldn’t begin to comprehend it.

This small moment is just one out of countless moments in that trip and the 3 subsequent ones I have been a part of that has changed my life forever. My appreciation for my life has grown exponentially as my humility has matured as I compare myself to amazing people like Loretta. I have realized how the homeless are many time just normal people, with normal educations like me, but have experienced some extreme hardship, like Katrina. Another amazing blessing from these trips has come from the incredible relationship I have made with one of the most humble guys I know, coincidentally also named Taylor (but that’s a whole other story).

This picture I attached was one of the little girls that was at the shelter that I became quickly attached to upon meeting her. She is just one of the many examples of an innocent little child that had a normal life before the devastating hurricane.

Crushed (Sketch #3)

SLAAAAAM. My whole body lurched forward into the expanding air bag. It seemed as if time was going at a crawl as my red Volkswagen Bug smashed into the beige sedan. Pieces of my car flew across the pavement. I started to feel pain all over, but then everything went black.

When I woke up, I was laying in the back of an ambulance with a medic by my side. “She’s awake!” I heard from what seemed like a mile away. My eyes opened as I tried to remember why I was there in the first place. As my fuzzy mind tried to remind me of the events of the car wreck, I hear my mom’s voice and see her coming up to the stretcher. “Is she okay?” she frantically asked the medic. “Yes, she will be alright. But we will have to take her to the hospital right now.” As if on cue, the ambulance’s siren started wailing as it lurched forward at a lightening rate.

Those next few days were not the most enjoyable in the hospital. First, I had to learn exactly what happened since my memory of those few seconds was very blurry. Here’s the story. My mom and I were coming home from a doctor’s appointment that I had, so she was following me in her car. I was in the far right lane, and the road was jam-packed with cars (as Dallas usually is). My lane was unusually clear, so I started to drive at a normal speed next to the unmoving cars in the other lanes. Unfortunately, a woman had just turned across all of the traffic, thinking that my lane was clear. Well, it wasn’t, so I slammed into her at nearly 50 miles per hour, which could explain the extreme damage in the accident. In fact, both cars were completely totaled. But on the slightly bright side, it wasn’t my fault at all so her insurance had to pay for a new car for me.

Besides these recollections, I had to deal with the fact that I had tubes coming out of me at every angle. I don’t do needles very well, so that was a large issue on my part. Luckily, despite the horrific accident, I only had bruises all over, whiplash, and a slightly cracked rib. But I definitely know that it could have been much worse than that. I was especially luckily that my mom could stop in time in order to avoid me, and that she could come with me to the hospital.

The hardest part about this accident, however, wasn’t the physical damage I had. It was dealing with the fact that I had to get out there and drive again. Even after getting the new car a couple of weeks later, I still couldn’t do it. As an about-to-graduate senior, I seriously had my parents drive me everywhere for about a month or so. Finally, after much prayer and encouragement from my parents (I’m sure they were sick of driving me), I got back on the roads. And I have to say, it was a weird experience.

I wouldn’t have thought it would have been so hard to learn to trust myself again. Even after almost a year, I still have to give myself a pep talk to drive during any form of traffic. But I have truly learned that it is possible to repair trust again. It may be very hard, but it is possible. I just had to get back out there and do it. I’ve had many experiences of different people losing my trust, and I’ve always had trouble giving it back to them. But if I could give myself my trust back, why couldn’t I give it to others as well? The memories may not go away, like my car crash, but I can still learn to trust. Life is definitely way too short to not pour ourselves fully into our relationships by not trusting others.

I may not be perfectly healed from this event (heck if I sneeze I can still pop my rib out!), but it in enough retrospect now that I can see the value I found somewhere in the ashes of my red Volkswagen.

Meeting Mohammed and Alia (ESL Blog #3)

If you know me at all, you would know how bad my addiction to coffee is. I have more than a few cups a day, and become severely grouchy if I don’t get my fix. So when Mohammed told me he would be bringing me some coffee that he had made, I was obviously more than excited to try it. “It’s not going to be what you are used to!” he kindly warned me. Thinking I could easily handle it, I took a big sip from the steaming cup. As he had told me, I was nearly induced to spit it out. It was the most potent cup of coffee I had ever tried. Mohammed laughed as he said that’s what he was expecting from me, so at least I didn’t feel too bad.

            Sipping back on my (now seemingly) weak latte from Union Grounds, I asked them what they had done that weekend. They said they spent their weekend planning their summer vacation to go to Colorado, so they could see the mountains that they had never seen before. Alia then started to tell me about the many places they used to visit when they lived in Saudi Arabia. Ranging from India to China, they had seen more of the world then I could have imagined. They suggested that if I ever decided to go over to that area, I should try to visit Dubai. “It’s like the Indian version of New York City. You feel as if the whole world is pushed into one city. Yet it still has that small town feeling that you get here in Fort Worth.”

            Honestly, I had never thought I would want to visit that part of the world. But after hearing her long description about how many places there are to visit, restaurants to eat in, and people to see, I was definitely intrigued. I guess, like the coffee, I have some cultural biases that I don’t even realize. I’ve always prided myself on being an open-minded person who loves learning new things and exploring other people’s ideas. But I guess I don’t often think about how influenced by my culture I am. Take the coffee for example. I equated all coffee as equal as opposed to thinking that there could be different kinds of coffee. Obviously this is just one small thing among others, but talking to Mohammed and Alia has helped me begin to at least notice these small things in my life.

            One especially new thing I learned this week was that many English words come from the Arabic language, like alcohol and mascara for example. Also, many words are very similar, like tomato and potato. Using a completely different alphabet makes it seem like the two languages would have much in common, but Mohammed mentioned that some of these connections have helped him throughout his learning process. Judging from their superb progress, I definitely trust that they know what they’re talking about.

La Ville-Lumière (Sketch #2)

It was just one of those moments. One of those moments that only lasted but a few seconds, but in retrospect it seemed to last a lifetime. One of those moments that I will not forget for the rest of my life. It was the moment I reached the top of the Eiffel Tower.

It began with the huffing and puffing of my family as we climbed the many stairs to the top. My dad always thought that elevators were for the handicapped, so we were the ‘fortunate’ people who took the last time slot to climb the 1600 stairs to the platform. When we finally made it, I couldn’t help but run to the side of the railing and try to look down as far as the safety net would let me.

Peering over the side, I could see the sparkling lights all around me. The Eiffel tower seemed to glisten like the beacon of Paris. The city lights below were tiny sparks reminding me of the life way below me. If I squinted my eyes enough, I could see the miniature people down below roaming around town. My eyes were as big as saucers.

Even from way up high, I could hear cars honking to try to get people to move. Around me were tourist of many nationalities, so I could hear conversations in French, Italian, Spanish, and even some I didn’t even recognize. Holding a fresh baguette in my hand, the warmth heated up my freezing hands. The snow was beginning to fall faster now, and the flakes landed upon my jacket covering me in a layer of frost.

All of my senses seemed to be on fire as I tried to write this moment into my memory, worried it could be gone forever.

For most people, seeing something like the Eiffel Tower would be exciting, but for me it was more like a fairytale dream come true. Ever since I was little, my room had been filled with Paris and Eiffel Tower mementos: from lamps and books to snow globes and tiny statues. It created burning desire in me to go there. I begged my mom constantly, and even saved up every dollar I possibly could for years. Then one day, my mom announced we were going because I had saved $500 (obviously not enough to pay for the trip, but she knew how much this would impact me). That alone was enough to make me faint. The pinaccle moment of the trip was once I arrived to the top of the tower because it was as if so many of my dreams were coming to a peak. I couldn’t help but cry. I know it sounds cheesy, but for a middle school girl it was the most exciting event to ever occur to me.

 That day was the beginning of me realizing that I can make my dreams come true. Not in a lame way like some movies make it seem, but in a much deeper way. Since then, I have become a much more passionate person: about life, about others’ lives, and about how I think about everything. I began making thoughtful goals and finding ways to reach them. I began finding ways to become closer to my family and friends. I try to find things I love so I can go after them wholeheartedly. I know it may seem like a stretch from just a short trip, but the sparkles from that tower just continue to create sparks in my life.