An Open Letter to Calvin College

Much to my dismay, it's about time for me to process and come to terms with my new label of "alumni", "new graduate" and "employee". This upcoming weekend I will be visiting Grand Rapids for the last time in what will be the foreseeable future. This means, the end of my college career and my life in GR are coming to a rapid and emotional close. So, I guess I can't avoid the sorrow any longer.

At Calvin College, the administration, professors and orientation staff drill the following mission statement into your mind: "Calvin College equips students to think deeply, to act justly and to live wholeheartedly as Christ's agents of renewal in the world." Much to the satisfaction of my professors and bosses at Calvin, I typed that from memory. It wasn't until senior year that I actually stopped to process what this mission statement means to me and how it has become evident in my life. This short and simple mission statement has become more than just the tagline of my Alma Mater, it will continue to serve me as I move into my workplace, my new community and my relationships. It's become a motto of my life, keeping life in perspective for me. Through my experiences, education and opportunities over the past four years, I have learned to think deeply, act justly and live wholeheartedly as an agent of renewal. Thank you Calvin College for creating and living out such a humbling yet encouraging mission. 

Thank you Calvin College for giving me the opportunities to become whatever and whoever I wanted. In high school, I wasn't what you would call "involved". I floated through high school only being involved in choir. I was encouraged by many people in the Calvin community to "put myself out there" and to "get out of your comfort zone". I was about as involved at Calvin as you possibly could be. Each year I tried something new and challenged myself to grow whether it was going to Ghana, West Africa for almost six months or joining Calvin College Orientation crew as an Orientation leader. It was because of Calvin College that I realized, grew and honed my leadership skills. These were skills that I didn't see in myself but people at Calvin saw them in me. 

Thank you Calvin College for giving me the space to be an adult. More often than not, Christian colleges and universities require specific things from their students such as mandatory chapel attendance, strict clothing guidelines and a testimony of faith. Calvin, thank you for creating your student body with people from any and every background. Thank you for not requiring all students to be from the same stuffy, smothering and stagnant religious background. I am grateful that I was able to choose to attend or not attend chapel, lectures and programs. Calvin College, you gave me room to make mistakes and suffer the consequences while also giving me the ability to thrive just like every adult has to. 

Thank you Calvin College for my five best friends. It sounds cliché but meeting my five best friends was such a God thing. All six of us just so happened to be on Second Eldersveld within a couple of rooms from each other? What are the odds? I don't have sisters and never really wanted any, but if I had to choose these girls would be it. Thank you each for all the belly aching laughs, midnight McDonald's runs, and endless pieces of advice and wisdom you've given me the past four years. We made it through two 24 hour long road trips, four semesters in a single house, two Christmas cards, a handful of breakups, an engagement and soon to be a wedding. Y'all are stuck with me. I love and cherish not only my Rosewood girls but all the other friends I made along the way. Or you're thinking that you're included in that group then you probably are. Without Calvin College, we would have never met and my life would be incredibly dull and 110% boring. 

There are countless aspects of Calvin that I could mention, but for the sake of your sanity I'll tell one last story. At the end of senior year, I was in the thick of papers, projects, meetings and preparing for finals. One of my bosses/directors at Calvin asked if I would participate in a panel for the parents of incoming Calvin students. This panel was made up of a professor, my boss Bob Crow and myself. Bob told me that he wanted me to share my stories while walking parents through a slideshow of Calvin statistics and whatnot. As I was preparing, it dawned on me just how many stories I have. I kid you not, I could have and would have spoken to those parents for multiple hours but I only had 8 minutes. I talked about my time in the dorms, my semester in Ghana and my experience with student leadership. It was a joy for me to speak into what life is like for a Calvin student. I wanted to end with a bang so I pondered, typed, deleted and typed again for nearly an hour. In the end, I think captured it pretty well "I have this unbridled love of this place. I have truly, in every sense of the word thrived here and leaving this place will be one of the hardest things I have to do." 

Sincerely, 
A Knight for Life, Class of 2017

Adoption: The good, the bad, the ugly

As many, if not all of you know, I’m adopted. There’s probably a whole series of questions running through your mind right now. To be honest, I’ve probably heard every possible question you could think of. I’ll answer some of the common questions:

1. Where were you adopted from? - I was born and raised in Indiana, so no, I’m not from an exotic country. 
2. Do you know your biological parents? - No, I don’t know my biological parents. My adoption is closed, therefore, no relationship exists between the child and the biological family. I have heard this question as “do you know your real parents?”...why yes, I do know my real parents. They raised me. My real parents are not the ones I share my flesh and blood with, but they are the ones that have raised, loved and cherished me. Shoutout to Bob and Jody 
3. Follow question: Do you want to know your biological parents? - No, to be honest, I don’t. There are plenty of adopted people who feel the need to know. I can say there have been and are times that I would love to put a name to a face and say hey, there’s the woman who gave birth to me. I know that if I chose to live while dwelling on the life that could have been I would miss everything that happens around me. I would be drowning in self-doubt, anxiety and depression. While I cherish the life that my biological parents chose to give me, they haven’t been a part of it so far and I don’t see room for them in the future. It took me several years to get to that point. I wanted to base my identity on the foundation of my parents but I had the wrong parents in mind. I thought that because I haven’t heard “wow, you have your mom’s nose” or “you’re a spitting image of your dad” I didn’t have a foundation for anything. For years, I dwelled on the fact that I didn’t know these people or specific things about myself. This isn’t the right mindset to have. Eventually, I came to my senses and chose to embrace those unknowns and incorporate them into my identity rather than making them my whole identity. Long story short, as of now, I would not try to contact or reach out to my biological family; however, if they were to contact me then I would gladly met them in the middle and established a relationship.
4. Are your siblings adopted too? - No, my brothers are biologically related to my parents. I’m the only adopted child. Woohoo! 

I was asked to participate in an activity for an orientation panel my junior year of college. I had to sum myself up in only five words. These words were to represent my identity and who I am as a person. my five were: 1. I’m a woman 2. I’m a family member 3. I’m adopted 4. I’m a humanitarian and 5. I’m bi-racial. Over the course of the activity I had to narrow the options down until I had one identity marker left. I crossed them off until I was left with “I’m adopted.” My adoption has made me who I am, and I generally enjoy what I have been, what I am and what I am becoming. I could talk your ear off when it comes to this. All of this to be an outspoken advocate for adoption! 

Please feel free to ask me questions in regards to this post or adoption in general! 

Mixology

Most often the term "mixology" refers to the mixing of drinks, but this post is not about the latest and greatest cocktails I've mixed, but about my complex relationship with race. This story dates back to May 3rd, 1995. Why yes, that is my birthday! Now to introduce the complexity...my racial background isn't fully known. I am half white and that is all we know for certain. Rather than explaining that personal story to every stranger that asks, I often make up a story.

Much to your surprise, I get asked "what are you?", "what are you mixed with?", "what is your ethnicity?", "are you mixed?", "what race are you?" on a weekly basis. Normally, these types of questions don't bother me all too much. I'll answer and shrug off the ignorance. Today, however, it was a different story. I was going to a local pizza place to pick up a large order of pizza for a group event this evening. As I was walking an employee to my car with an arm full of pizza boxes she asks "what are your ethnicities?" and I responded with, "well I'm black and white" which is my go to answer. Rather than leaving it at that, she pointed out that "most of the world is going to look like you in the next couple decades" which is true, but also demeaning when she followed it up with "well you don't look like the rest of them, most guys like that don't look like you". Why she chose to imply my answer wasn't right or true is beyond me, moreover, she generalized an entire race of people. There is not a single defining characteristic for someone who is biracial. That is what makes it such a beautiful and unique identity. Do not think that all biracial men and women have "carmel" skin tones, with white facial features and black body types. We are as diverse as the stories and places we come from. Do not put us in a box. 

A Collection of Thoughts (Ghana, Dominican Republic and Elections)

Thoughts about Ghana, this world and the time of life I find myself in are constant. In the two weeks since coming home from Ghana not only do I find myself missing my life there, but I also find myself struggling to comprehend how to apply my time in Ghana to my every day life. What implications does my time there have on my thoughts, attitudes, actions and future? I have yet to fully answer that question for myself. There are, of course, practical implications that I have identified, especially in my actions and attitudes. I am so much more grateful for the hundreds of blessings I have. I have a job (babysitting the best children in the world), I have a home, food on the table, a car and the ability to take opportunities that come my way.
Honestly, life in America is dull in comparison to life in Accra. The color and vibrancy of life is immense and never ending. While I was in Ghana I was often frustrated by nothing ever going as planned, but now I know I took that for granted. Driving down the street in Westfield there are rarely people walking on the street and there is never anyone selling things through open windows. I miss that about Accra, people are everywhere. There's a sense of life, like a house that is a home rather than a house that doesn't look lived in. But what I miss most is Haven of Hope and the children I bonded so closely with.
There's Gabriel, who has the most incredible dimples and a heart made of pure gold. He gave me a necklace the first day he met me and I can assure you that I will cherish that for the rest of my life!

 There's Nii, who has the warmest smile and the curiosity of a cat. His questions never ended and that is such an amazing quality; one that I don't have but wish I did.

Lastly, there's Kofi who has a smile that shines as bright as the sun and has boundless energy. He's a tough guy who is actually a teddy bear, but wishes he wasn't. Also, this happens to be one of my favorite pictures from the whole semester!

Being at a place like Haven of Hope brought a flood of Dominican memories back to my mind and a twinge of pain in my heart. In case you didn't know I was given an incredible opportunity to intern with VisionTrust Dominicana again for the whole summer, but due to financial problems I wasn't able to take the opportunity. This was by far the hardest decision I made in quite a long time. To feel a call to be in DR during the summer, but not be able to because of money was disheartening to say the least. As my family at VT down in Dominican serves a total of sixteen teams this summer I am stuck on the sidelines as a ball of envy and heartache. It is hard to be stuck somewhere when your heart desires to be somewhere else.

I might have been out of the country from January until May 30th but I definitely caught all the political drama going on in America. Donald Trump. Hillary Clinton. Wow. What terrible odds for America. Neither is a good option and both are going to battle until the end. As a self professing conservative Republican who happens to be a minority I have found myself stressing over how I will cast my vote in November. I was reminded during worship at my church that God is ultimately dictating the outcome of this election. We were singing "Fail Us Not" by 1000 Generations where the chorus and bridge follow as:
"There is nothing above you. 
There is nothing beyond you. 
There is nothing that you can't do. 
Whatever will come, we'll rise above. 
You fail us not, You fail us not. 
No matter the war, our hope is secure. 
You fail us not, You fail us not. 
Whatever will come, we'll rise above. 
You fail us not, You fail us not. 
No, You fail us not. 
You fail us not. 
...You are bigger than the battle 
you are bigger than the battle 
you are bigger than the battle has ever been 
ever been..."

God is bigger than this election and His will will be done come November. This was the perfect reminder in the middle of my church service when I least expected it (when I didn't think I needed it). It's important to remember that just because someone's opinion doesn't match yours doesn't give you a reason to dislike or berate them.
This is just a collection of random thoughts I've had since coming back to America..

(I wonder if anyone actually read all the way to the end)

Written Last Night

As my time in Ghana comes to a rapid close I am left with a sense of loss, confusion and excitement. It’s a rush of emotions that one can’t really put into words, but I will try my best...

What awaits me at home is both incredible and scary. I know when I get home it’ll be amazing to see my family since I’ve missed them so much. It’ll be super nice to relax in my home with AC and Lord knows I cannot wait to cuddle with my puppy Ike. But keep in mind, I’ve spent almost half a year half way around the world. I’ve grown and changed in many ways, most, if not all are unknown to me. Not only have I experienced Ghana but I’ve lived in Ghana and I can assure you there is a massive difference. Everything about my life here has been different than it is in the States. My habits have changed and my worldview has grown tremendously. Honestly, while it may seem to you like I am coming back to a world and life that is familiar, I am not. It’s scary to think that living in America is foreign to me now. The transition back to the fast-paced, materialistic immediate gratification life style is going to be stressful, terrifying and difficult. So for those of you who I will see in the relative future I ask that you extend me grace as I navigate the transition back home. 

Tonight, as I lay in my bed on my phone, typing this blog, I am laying next to KG, one of my dearest most treasured friends. I thank God that I got to go no this Ghanaian adventure with her and I probably couldn’t have survived it without her. We’re at Haven of Hope for one last night to soak up every waking hour with these kiddos. Saying goodbye knowing that in all likelihood I will never see these kids again is utterly heartbreaking and I’m not sure how much my heart can handle. I’m leaving Haven of Hope and I’m leaving Ghana in the matter of three days, so it’s fair to say my heart will be broken but it is also forever changed for the better. 

Bottling Up Feelings

As I type this blog I am covered in Benadryl due to a pelthora of mosquito bites, I'm carefully placing my dusty feet on my clean sheets, and I am charging all of my electronics praying that "dumsaur" doesn't occur again this evening. Dumsaur is the twi word for off and on. They refer to the power outages as dumsaur because the lights go off and eventually come back on. So far this semester the power outages haven't been too much of a problem. They've made cooking weekly meals at Tracy's flat difficult (Tyler and I made burgers without power) but most of the time the power is out and hour or so and comes back on. The past two nights around dinnertime dumsaur has happened...
I wish I could bottle up all of the feelings that flood into my mind when I'm laying on my bed, already sweating, and I hear the fan slow to a stop only to realize that my phone is at 32% and my computer is at 19%. What this means is movies are not an option and neither is playing games on my phone. The thing about dumsaur is one never knows when its gonna end. It could last 30 mins or 30 hours. There is such a feeling of defeat knowing that for the next of hours there is literally nothing to do.  I wish I could give those feelings to my many friends and family back at home who have no idea what that's like.
Then there's the heat. I want so badly to bottle up what it feels like to sweat constantly. I wish I could accurately describe what it's like to go to bed while sweating, wake up while sweating, sweating the instant you turn the shower off, and basically all the times in between. I have been sitting in a church sermon, or a lecture completely overcome with heat. Imagine being in a room of a couple hundred people, minimal fans, doors and windows open with zero breeze, the heat envelopes you and in some cases you feel like you can't breathe cause the heat is just sitting on you. Everyone should know that feeling.
Most importantly, I wish everyone knew what it was like to be an international student, or the stark minority. I have been laughed at countless times for simply asking a question, I have had my picture taken while walking on the street or laying on the beach, I have been stared at relentlessly. I wish my majority friends understood those feelings. Those things have happened simply because of my skin tone. When it comes to being an international student I can assure you that it is the hardest thing I have ever done. It is terrifying to take classes where you can barely understand the professor, you don't understand the lecture style and you can't seem to find people who are willing to go out of their way to help you transition. It's extremely confusing and utterly exhausting to have to have your attention dialled in at all times. To behave in culturally appropriate ways, get good grades and find friends? It's a monumental task. It is in my Calvin group or the other American/European international student that I seek refuge, comfort and rest. It is just easier to be in a group of people who get it. When I'm sitting with my American friends at lunch I don't have to constantly be on guard to ensure I behave appropriately. It's only after this experience that I can fully appreciate the International students at Calvin. I commend you. To the Ghanaian students at Calvin, thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your support and advice you've given to us! Thank you for answering our questions, calming our nerves and connecting us with your friends and families here in Ghana.
My experience here as a student isn't over, I still have finals and classes to finish up but in about two weeks I will transition to an internship at a school/orphange called Haven of Hope. This is my practicum placement for the Calvin program. I am so incredibly excited to work alongside teachers and caregivers at Haven of Hope. As of today I have 40 days left here in Accra before I begin the 24 hour journey back home.

Our Own Trotros

Last weekend a group of us girls decided we'd go on a much needed beach day. We wanted to visit a place called Big Milly's which had been recommended to us by many people. We knew it was in the general area of the beach we visited a couple weeks ago called Bojo Beach, which is about an hour from campus. We figured we would grab a trotro to the general area then attempt to find a way to Big Milly's. Most of us didn't want to plan this trip down to the minute because the majority of the time things don't go according to plan.
I'll explain what a trotro is and how they work. Imagine a passenger van with a sliding door, then add 17 people, a driver, and a caller. These callers are normally guys my age who hang out the door of the trotro yelling where they are headed to. It's their job to get people in the trotro.
Since we left so early in the morning on a Saturday we were able to negotiate with an empty trotro to take us right to the place we were going. Normally trotros take you to a stop/juncture, then drop you there and you walk, take another trotro or grab a taxi. Since they were willing to take us straight to Big Milly's for a fair price we hopped in their trotro and we were on our way. These guys were super friendly and funny. Big Milly's ended up being farther from Bojo Beach than we thought it would be and the caller of the trotro was worried that we wouldn't be able to get back to the main road to hail a cab or get a trotro so he offered to pick us up when we were done. We said we'd stay until 3 and they could pick us around then. 
That never happens. They have their designated routes and they don't stray from that, so the fact that these guys took us way out of the way to Big Milly's then offered to pick us up and take us all the way back to the university was insane. Of course we agreed to have them pick us up and that's exactly what they did. 3:30 rolled around and we see our trotro coming down the street.
If there's a story that describes Ghanaians perfectly, it's this one. They were worried for us. These strangers who picked us up were worried that we wouldn't be able to get back to where we needed to go. That wouldn't happen in the States. Ghanaians care about everyone they come in contact with, no matter how short or impersonal the encounter is. That's something I'm very grateful for and something I am learning from.