Stories! How many times can I use the word without losing you? Bear with me.

I've neglected my blog, not for reasons of laziness, or busyness, but for a different perspective. When I blog, it is one way of reflecting (guess what! I'm reflecting right now!) and processing and trying to form a story out of the events going on in my life. I've talked to a number of friends about this- we kind of suck at telling stories. When you come across someone who is blessed with that ability (or has just practiced it enough) it is noticeable; a throng of people will be drawn in, a creative atmosphere replaces any boredom, and the desire to see adventures in your own life all result from the fellowship of story-telling. I experienced this in abundance while in Tanzania; every day was an adventure not just because unusual things happened, but because we made things happen, we were inspired to take more risks because of our teacher's story-telling, and also that we had no distractions from television/facebook/media sucking our stories away from us (we should all be raised Amish).

So, I'm forcing inspiration on myself to be a better storyteller. I realize that writing these stories is one thing, and speaking them in conversation is another. My friend is sharing his 'Faith Journey' in chapel next week, and for the past month he has been practicing in the chapel basement rehearsing out loud what he plans on saying so that he doesn't depend on notes (I always wonder what unsuspecting student has stumbled through the basement during these times..). The risk is forgetting a transition or a detail. The benefit is freedom for the moment of sharing in fellowship, letting the story shape itself (hopefully with some divine guidance).

This semester has been the most intense and heavy semester yet, and at the same time, the most fulfilling and joyful. I have never felt so involved in other people's stories as I try to let go of my individuality and allowing myself to be part of the collective, part of fellowship. I think about this struggle of humility, and how I tend to see myself as the hero in my story (naturally we would) but how this is incomplete and useless until I let God be the main character; his rightful place. Only then can I be part of the greater whole (the greater story), and comprehend what it means to be in the body of Christ.

This fellowship has expressed itself in unusual ways. With joy and depth have also come plain silliness. Tuesday night the entirety of the Houghton hamlet (it stretches for a good 3 miles) experienced a blackout. I felt surrounded by a sea of dazed and confused 20 year-olds; there was an instantaneous gathering of pods of people ready to accept any given leadership direction. It was like Lord of the Flies, except with glo-sticks. It reminded me just how homogenous my community is - the four security guards running around trying to prevent any potential vandalism were probably the only ones above college age at that time of night. It was a little scary to see the irresponsible sides of people (someone thought driving their car on the unlit sidewalks was a good idea), but for the most part it was rather humorous. I sat on the main building steps and watched the spurts of glo-stick holders shuffle their way across the field like spastic magic wands with invisible carriers, I listened to the car that was blasting its radio to welcome an impromptu dance party, while a group of students on the chapel steps sang songs about the stars, whose bright burnings could finally be recognized for all their glory, stripped from the light pollution of streets, buildings and other man-made structures. The lack of electricity stripped us from our individual academic mindset, and let loose the fellowship and creativity that is so often squashed or neglected.

Some stories can be chosen by a decisive act, others just happen. But I think I'm learning that both depend on my character, my openness to take risks to be involved, and the willingness to practice my own story-telling so that it can be an invitation to others. It requires a letting go of my individuality and joining in the collective, allowing the moment to shape itself, always remembering that it only holds meaning because of its part in a much greater story. Thank God for that!