Kimchi, not for me

I've been thinking a lot lately about Graceville - partly because I'm homesick, and partly because of Jeff's post on Tuesday. Well, Jeff's post and the comments. So here is my take on Graceville - and forgive me for sharing when not invited.

I miss Graceville. I liked it, but didn't always appreciate it. My first year had a totally different feel to it than the rest of my time - and that is because of my decisions made during those other years. (Please bear with me if this is incoherent, I have about five different thoughts trying to come out at once.) Due to a combination of factors, I arrived at BCF (then FBTC) not knowing anything about me. I was petrified that I was going to flunk out my first semester. I was certain I'd have no friends. And then everything ended up being so wonderful and going so well. Looking back, I'm not sure how it turned from a "maximize my potential" campaign into a color the hair, pierce and tattoo campaign. That's not to say I necessarily regret those things - I just don't get where it came from. I didn't think I'd be able to go through with getting my tongue pierced. I had talked so much about doing it, but inside I thought I'd back out at the last minute. When I didn't, I was surprised. I was also surprised when I lost friends starting my second year of school. But looking back and seeing what they saw - looked like I had changed entirely - cut off all my hair, pierced my tongue - but instead of seeing things from their perspective, I just got bitter and found new friends. This is where it all started to go downhill.

Anyway, many hair colors later (I incidentally have pictures galore to prove why orange isn't a natural hair color), a few piercings, and three tattoos later - after being suspended from school, moving to Dothan, going back and graduating (summa! no flunking out for me!), going to Israel, and now in Korea - it makes me sad that I'm known for what color hair I had. That's my complaint with my time in Graceville. All the times I hated it were times I pretty much hated myself because I was wrong (for one of countless reasons). There were things I could have devoted my time and energy to that would have actually been useful and profitable in an eternal sense.

But now...what do I think of when I think of Graceville? I think of my dear friend Megan and her amazing family who took me in as basically one of their own, despite my freaky hair or anything else. They kept me at their house over Christmas break when I had my wisdom teeth out and developed 3 dry sockets when Megan was away at camp. They drove to Pensacola to come to my Mom's funeral when she died. When I got suspended from school and had to tell Mama Reece, my heart broke as if I were having to give the bad and disappointing news to my own mother. I think of Dr. Freeman (who I'm convinced isn't the heretic some thought him to be, though I disagree with him on a lot now) - who was my advisor and counselor in some ways. He forced me to speak up in his classes when I didn't want to (but it was good for me), and let me talk through things when I was struggling with the appeal of open theism after my mom's death. I obviously met my dear best friend Bethany in Graceville - and I can't imagine life without her. And that's the thing - I was so stupid and wasted so many opportunities and so much of my time there. While I was there, I despised it frequently. But now, I miss it and I love it - the time God had me there was an extremely productive one. I think that's the realization Jeff was getting at - it's easy to associate your perosnal/spiritual progress (or in my case, lack thereof) with Graceville - and that's wrong. And then once you're gone, you see it wasn't so bad at all.

Anyway, that's my take on it. I miss Graceville. I'm sad for all the dumb things I did and the time I wasted. But I'm beyond thankful that God is sovereign and gracious, and can work even my own foolishness for my good, and for His ultimate glory - somehow.