A new fantastic point of view

There do not exist in this world many things better than the look of pure joy on your friends' faces when they're happy to see you.

Whether it's after not seeing them for a week (or a month), returning to them when you thought you'd left for the last time, seeing them after only being away from them a few hours, or passing by them on your way to or from class...there's simply nothing like it. Okay, so this is getting awfully far away from reality for the rest of you, so I'm just going to explain what I'm talking about.

Before we begin, I want to let you know I'm going to get a little faithy here. If you don't want to read about it, I understand and won't be offended. I know I have a lot of friends who are atheists/agnostics/struggling with their personal faith, so I hope you all don't see this as me preaching to you. I'm just going to write about what I felt.


Also, how are Disney songs so fitting? (see this post's title, and keep reading)

Obviously, if you read my last post, you know that I went to Montgomery, AL, on a service trip last week over my fall break. At the time I wrote that one, I was unsure of how to feel about it. I started finally getting excited during lunch the day we were leaving, when I knew it would be a week before I saw the people with whom I was eating. As our departure time approached, that feeling kept building until I was nearly exploding with excitement an hour before we were supposed to leave. I was practically skipping to my room after class got out, and I finished packing and called my mom and was ready to leave half an hour later.

I was the first one from our group to arrive at the vans, which actually was probably for the best. It gave me some time to get all my energy out and settle down before I drove everyone insane. By the time we actually pulled out of the parking lot (on time, believe it or not!), I had returned to my original state - not necessarily excited or nervous, but ready to go.

We stayed in Columbia, MO, that night - a little less than 1/3 of the way to Montgomery - because Eric's parents were so incredibly kind and let us spend the night at their house (Eric, tell your parents thanks again!). On the way there, I had one of the potentially most important conversations I've had in a very long time. I've never spoken so openly about my depression with someone I barely knew...I've never spoken about my depression with someone I barely knew. I for once wasn't overcome with emotion while talking about it, and I was able to see things a little differently because of the questions I was asked. For once, I didn't feel like I was just talking at someone. My listener was interested and curious, and I'm assuming (correct me if I'm wrong) had never really experienced something like that before, so maybe they learned from it too. I hope so.

We went to the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis that Saturday. It's inside the hotel where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was shot, and the entire experience was so surreal. I stood just a few feet from that spot. I looked into the room where he stayed. What?

The National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, TN
The wreath marks the balcony where Dr. King was standing when he was shot.

Saturday night, we arrived at Resurrection hungry, tired, and worn out from driving 12 hours that day. Somehow we all summoned up the energy to hang out for a little while, but I had to go to bed after a little while. We went to Mass on Sunday and heard from Fr. Manuel one of the most moving homilies I've heard in a long time. I've heard the reading ("Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and give to God what is God's") a countless number of times, but it never really meant much to me. To be honest, I'd associated the entire thing with money. Fr. Manuel spoke about giving ourselves to God, though - He made us, and we are His. (See, I told you it was going to get faithy) So it provided some food for thought, most definitely.

The second thing that struck me about Mass that day was the music. Previously, I'd always thought, "Why is Gospel music such a big thing? Do people really need to be entertained while they're at church? That's not what church is about." Uhh, hello Ali. You were wrong. Experiencing it firsthand made all the difference. I realized partway through Mass how full my heart felt...and if you've been following along, you're probably aware of the fact that I've been struggling with that for a while - struggling with actually feeling something in my chest instead of the pulling weight that's been there for a few weeks. I was happy to be there, happy to be singing along even when I didn't know the words, happy to be seeing all these other happy people. So something occurred to me during the Mass...maybe the South has been doing it right, using music to express their joy and praise for God. I mean, music is where I usually find my peace. So maybe it's not about being entertained during church - maybe it's about being fully present.

The whole group at the Resurrection church picnic:
Mary Clare, Chelsea E., me, Eric, Nolan, Amy
Andi, Chelsea L., Katie, Sarah, Anne, Garret, Anthony
Teresa, Jessica, Kathryn

After Mass, we set up for the church picnic at a reception hall a few minutes away, and then we served and ate some really delicious food. By the end of it, the ladies at my table were force-feeding me the most delicious bundt cake I've ever eaten and pudding and other desserts. I think I gained ten pounds at that picnic alone.

Later in the week, we also got to see the National Civil Rights Center in downtown Montgomery (not to be confused with the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis). Its focus was on some of the people who were brutally killed during the Movement and whose deaths were important but maybe not well-known. It was very small and didn't take long to walk through and read everything, but I got more out of it than the museum in Memphis. At the end, it showed that civil rights has to do with more than just the Movement of the 1960s, that it's something the world is still struggling with tremendously. The very last part of the center was a dark room with a huge screen on one wall with countless names floating down to the floor. It was the Wall of Tolerance, the name of which I didn't really like (I prefer "acceptance" to "tolerance"), but I found it very moving to be inside that room. I wrote a lot in my journal that day, more than doubling the number of pages I'd used for my previous entries. It was definitely a powerful day.

A couple things I wanted to remember from the National Civil Rights Center

Oh man. This post is starting to get way too long. Umm...summary of other things:

I got to hang out with a bunch of 7th graders at Resurrection School, and by the end of the week they actually thought I was cool - possibly because I broke out the Dougie in Sr. Gilda's classroom. They were pretty awesome kids, not gonna lie.

My 7th graders!

I drove around the city with a few others delivering food boxes to some elderly people, which was quite the experience - Ms. Viola was wonderful, telling us to stay in school and making it obvious that she was proud of us for going to college, even though we had just met her.

We had dinner with Ms. Taylor (from the Equal Justice Initiative), Rev. Graetz (the first white preacher to publicly support the Civil Rights Movement), Dr. Hardy (who had been heavily involved with the Movement starting in his teenage years), and Mr. Malden (Nelson Malden, NOT Mandela, who was Dr. King's barber when he lived in Montgomery).

With our special dinner guests

We visited Mr. Malden's barbershop, where the guys trimmed the hairs on their heads. Anthony, Andi, and Garret got haircuts, and Eric got a straight shave.

The guys with Mr. Malden at the barbershop - don't they look great?

We visited the home for disabled adults that's located just behind the church, where I met Bobby, who reminded me a lot of one of my cousins and was really cool.

We had dinner again with Mr. Malden, and also Fr. Manuel, Fr. Fred, Michelle (who was in charge of us for the week), and a few other guests.

We helped to organize and put on Resurrection's annual gala fundraiser event where we met Ms. Bonnie and Ms. Charlotte, and I have never felt so important to two women who I'd just met ever before. I got my Southern accent back for a little bit, and now it's a lot easier for me to slip right back into it (Ms. Bonnie sounds just like my Aunt Judy, who lives in the southern part of Texas). We may have gotten food poisoning from that benefit, but who knows?

My darling Ms. Bonnie!

A lot of us were sick on the way back this past Friday. Mine hit later than everyone else's - they were all sick in the morning, but I didn't get it until we stopped for fried chicken in Memphis that afternoon. It was (of course) worst while I was driving, but I had some Gatorade and water and slept when Katie took over driving for me, and I felt a lot better that night. We stayed at Eric's house again (seriously, Eric, you can't thank your family enough for all they did for us!) and got some really great bonding time in.

If you ever go to Memphis and want some really good fried chicken, go to Uncle Lou's. Seriously, the Sweet Spicy Love  sauce was amazing, and the place has been on the Food Network twice!

I had a couple more conversations that were really critical. I found a kindred spirit whose new friendship I treasure very much, the final drive back into Omaha was again filled with a conversation that was very important, and in the affirmations I received at the very end of the trip, I found something in myself.  All these things, all these conversations...they helped me to uncover something. I don't know if I can define it accurately for you, but it's like the words people said to me that day helped me to find a beauty inside myself. It's still faint, but at least I can see it now. It's a new fantastic point of view, if you will. (eh, you see what I did there?)



"We left as strangers, but we became a family." (credit to Nolan for that one)



So did I come back changed? Maybe a little. But more than that, I came back rejuvenated, with a strengthened voice and a strengthened will to continue to be an advocate for those who are silenced.

This was by no means every detail of the trip - there are so many things I couldn't fit in here, things I'm keeping in my journal and my heart. I'd love to talk with any of you reading this about those things, but for now I'm going to have to be done.

With love, Ali G.