This is going to sound like complaining. Really it's just me growing reality in my life. "Embracing" reality would probably be the more commonly used phrasing. However you take this blog, I simply need to make a list of all that has happened to me this summer--all that things that would have been alright to handle if they had happened individually with breaks, yet they all happened at seemingly the same time. Some of them allowed me more time to breathe afterwards than others. Maybe you can relate, or maybe you can just be amazed like I am. 

I graduated from college in May, and for the first time since I was five, I was no longer considered a student. A break from school was long overdue, but I did enjoy furthering my education and miss it more now than ever. 

I moved back in with my parents for a while, worked a few six-day weeks, then started staying with my aunts on most nights. 

In June, Ben began hinting that he'd like for me to be closer. Since I didn't have a full-time job, and he had also been indicating near-future marriage plans, I thought his hometown would be the best place to look. It was Ben who sent me the link to apply for a job at Terminix. It was God who allowed me to get it. 

A month later, I moved out of the house that I'd lived in since before I was born. God allowed me to move into a home in Anderson for good rent. I'm so thankful for that. However, it has been quite a transition to come home to a strange house alone in the middle of new town. It's also been a transition to not have friends in that town. Ben is really the only person I know here. He lives about 15 minutes away in his own empty house.

Consequentially, it is pretty transitional for my boyfriend to have his own house. Call me sentimental, but not being able to share it with him has been one of the most difficult things I've ever faced. 

I am so thankful to have a job right now. So many people with families to support are struggling to find one. As thankful as I am, it is still not an ideal situation in the office. I feel as though I've stepped into a battle field waving a Swiss flag. . . 40 hours each week.

Somewhere in that, I found time to go to the dermatologist, who removed a mole and placed yet another scar on the skin I'm already self-conscious about. The testing deducted "bad cells" (a.k.a pre-melanoma). Disturbing in the least. He decided to take more tissue, a deeper, wider, stitched scar, but the second results came back risk-free. Praise God for that. And I'm a little more at ease about the scar now than I was at first. I have to be careful not to be too vain, right?

Now, I may have to move out of the house I just moved into by the end of September. I know of a couple places I could go, but I have no idea where is best for me to be.

To top it all off, one of my nearest friends revealed some super heavy stuff to me. God is gracious in relieving my burdens, but the after shock of all this is nearly as unbearable as the events themselves. I didn't write this to draw attention to me; I wrote it because no one has seen it all lumped together . . . and that's how I see it. God is so faithful to me. He's brought me through all this in one piece, and hopefully one better piece. There's more to come. It's inevitable. For me and for you. When it rains, it really does pour. God will be the same great God for you that He's been for me. Trust that. 

And, if you've read through this collection of occurrences, will you please just say a sincere prayer for me? One will do. Thanks. 

I have been a college graduate for one month now. The time seems unreal and strange, probably because I have never been here in this new room of my life before. I'm stretching out and testing the space like a prospective buyer looking at a brand new house. I've never been a recent college graduate before, but it seems like a great starter home.

North Greenville University memories are still so fresh that I find myself thinking I have an assignment I should be working on. Still, I am slowly reminded that Tigerville is in the past. Throughout college, I dreamed about OCA and never about NGU. Now that I've left campus, I have dreams about NGU as if it were years ago. When I wake up, I feel like I need to climb down from a loft.

In the last few semesters of my college career, I thought often about the scenario of leaving a city. I believe that moving away from a place is always a milestone in one's life, whether or not it is recognized as such. I just finished Azar Nafisi's Reading Lolita in Tehran. She explains, "You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place [ . . . ] like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you'll never be this way ever again." Though less often, I'll still see my friends from North Greenville, but it will not be the same. We have all changed. Ignoring that change would be unhealthy. Instead, I hope we will come together, not in attempt to recreate our college days, but instead, in order to celebrate our growth.

Yes, celebrate. Nafisi continues, "I had many reasons to feel sad. Every object and every face had lost its tangibleness and appeared like a cherished memory. [ . . . ] I was also vaguely elated [ . . . ]. I went about my way rejoicing, thinking how wonderful it is to be a woman and a writer at the end of the twentieth century." Her growth was much the same as mine, except I might say, "the beginning of the twenty-first century." My post-graduation life may look different than I had planned, but I am "elated" to be here in this new space, and I pray that it grows with me.

Just as I was about to run out the door for class, I grabbed a pair of flip-flops then realized I wouldn't be needing shoes today. Keeping the flip-flops in my hand anyway, just in case the dress-code enforcers decided to be difficult, I cantered through the tile, dorm hall and headed for class.

The April ground was neither cold nor hot, which made the day a bit easier at least in one way. Still, broken pieces of sticks and bark were scattered on the rough sidewalk. I avoided the slimy worms that love to crawl over the cement in the morning but are dead by afternoon; I noted to watch for them again later in the day. Mosquitos swarmed and bees buzzed around my ankles just before I walked into the building. More tiled hallways led me to Senior Seminar, where my bare feet were welcomed by carpet.

No one seemed to notice I had no shoes. I didn't really notice, either, with the carpet and the dry sidewalk. However, to get to my second period class, I usually walked through the barked landscape. I found myself taking another route and being later than usual. The floors in that building were covered in dust and debris I had never noticed, and worst of all, they were cold. Sitting forward in my desk with my feet on the floor proved to be more challenging when my toes and heels were aching from their chilly foundation.

After class came lunch in the cafeteria, where my flip-flops came in handy. I probably wouldn't have been let in without them, but who ever really knows what rules will and will not be enforced. I decided I would take them off when I got seated and less conspicuous, but I caught myself checking under the table for dropped, smashed, or crumbled food.

When I left the cafeteria, I took the flip-flops back off and made my way to Poetry Class. Here, my feet were meant to be bare, like Thoreau sitting beside a pond of words. Besides, I never really cared to wear shoes at home in the country, where I knew my yard so well. But leaving class proved to bring problems again. The pouring rain was not so bad, except for the way my jeans drug against the ground without any heels of shoes at all. Then the lightning came, and I had no comfort of rubber soles. Running without shoes also brings a stronger threat of stubbed toes and scraped heels.

At the end of the day, not only were my feet sore, but my legs were exhausted. They had no support or cushion for my joints. I felt older already. And rougher. And not in any glorious Clint Eastwood way.

I spent most of April 8th, 2010 without shoes in order to empathize with the men, women, and children all over our world who do not have the luxury of even one pair of shoes. It was Toms Shoes' "ONE Day Without Shoes," but many spend their whole lives without. For each pair of shoes bought from this company, they give one pair of shoes to a child who doesn't have any. They call it "One for One." Check out their website here.