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When I matriculated into Waynesburg University as a freshman, I had no idea what to expect. It was an uncomfortably hot day in August and the sidewalks were crowded with families and new students—hundreds of faces I didn't know. I was terrified. Everything was about to change. I was entering the unknown with no one to catch me if I fell.

 

What had I gotten myself in to?

 

In high school, I was the girl who never quite knew where she belonged. I'll admit, it was my own fault, really. I had kept myself guarded, unwilling to take a chance at becoming something more than who I had limited myself to be. I was afraid of rejection. In my mind, keeping at a distance meant not getting hurt, but it also meant not being able to grow.

 

Attending college would force me to step out of my comfort zone and I didn't know if I was quite ready for that, but God knew what I needed and encouraged me to take the plunge.

 

“In God, whose word I praise—in God I trust and am not afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?” Psalm 56: 4 (NIV)

 

To my surprise, as my first weeks unfolded, I began finding comfort in my surroundings and the positive energy exuded around me. The people were welcoming. They smiled and held the door open for me, they asked me how I was doing, where I was from and what my future plans were, but most importantly, to me, they were open about their faith.

 

This is where I belonged.

 

When I attended Chapel for the first time, I was amazed to see a group of college students openly worshipping and praising God. The preconceived notions I had been fed through television shows and movies had given me an undesirable vision of what college was going to be like, but I was pleased to find things were different at Waynesburg. I could feel God's presence in the voices of those singing and in the words outwardly spoken.

 

When I found Waynesburg, my walk of faith began. Ready or not, God was there, telling me this was where I needed to be. Undoubtedly, I have a ways to go before I find my life's mission, but the seeds have been planted. God is at work in my life now more than ever, and I have Waynesburg to thank for igniting the flame.

 

I have no fear looking forward.

 

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29: 11 (NIV)


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When I first stepped out of the car and onto the pavement, Waynesburg University looked like many of the small, private schools I had been touring for months. Historic brick buildings full of character, vibrant foliage and countless visiting squirrels scurrying across the sidewalks. But the one thing Waynesburg didn't have was the one thing I thought I wanted.

 

Little did I know, things were quickly about to change.

 

In my mind, I had always seen myself majoring in Equine studies, training world class horses and riders for the Olympics or maybe even becoming the next big “horse whisperer.” Nothing had intrigued me more in my life than the mind and power of a horse, and after years of riding lessons and recent horse ownership, I was more and more ready to take the plunge towards attaining what I thought was my dream.

 

I had found a couple of equine schools, great ones, actually. So what was the problem? Why was I stalling?

 

It was my senior year of high school, and I was tired and discouraged. I had no idea what I was supposed to do with my life and the monotonous campus touring hadn't come close to pointing me in the right direction for my future.

 

That was before I visited Waynesburg.

 

As I toured the campus, I found myself being drawn in. The smell of fresh cut grass and hamburgers on the grill, the smiles shared by students as we passed by and the quiet, peaceful sounds of birds chirping overhead, all reminded me of what home is supposed to feel like—an intimate community.

 

This was a place I could see myself in.

 

Beginning to pull away from the schools I had found before, I wondered if I was making the right choice. As many of us do, I was second guessing myself when my heart was trying to tell me it was alright to let go.

 

I needed an awakening.

 

Up until my Waynesburg visit, I had never pictured myself as a writer. Sure, in high school I had been told that I had a talent for it, but writing never drove me forward. My spare time wasn't spent bent over a keyboard profusely typing every thought that came to mind. Wasn't that what writers were supposed to do? I didn't fit the mold.

 

When I met with English faculty, my whole perspective changed. As they spoke about their own passions for writing, something clicked. The wheels began turning.

 

They asked me about my interests and, when I thought it was impossible, explained the ways in which I could incorporate my other passions into writing and how I could make a difference through my words. But more than that, they opened a door I had not been able to see before. As much as I hadn't wanted to admit it at the time, I knew I had found what I was meant to do.

 

I guess the moral of the story is, sometimes the things we are called to do are not necessarily the things we had originally had in mind. Waynesburg showed me that, and through the years, they have continued to foster a passion I had never known existed.

 

Looking back on that journey, I can't imagine the outcome any other way.


 

 


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The Pennsylvania Transplant (that'd be me) has officially survived nine weeks in the Texas heat! I must say, I don't mind it, especially in comparison to all the rain, rain and more rain I hear y'all have had in western Pennsylvania. I hope all that rain clears up by the time I return in a couple of weeks.

Now, don't worry, Pennsylvanians. I have no desire to move to Texas right now. I have had an absolutely wonderful stay with my Texas family this summer; I would not trade it for anything. However, it is just not the same as home.

In Texas, you have to turn on the sprinklers every day if you want to have green grass in your front lawn. This was a new concept for me. Even the grass that is green is still rather prickly to walk on in bare feet. Green grass (and rain for that matter) are common elements of western Pennsylvania, and I have certainly missed seeing green on the ground and full trees dressed in emerald.

Speaking of trees, that's another difference between Texas and home. The trees were one of the very first things I noticed upon my arrival. They are rather scraggly in my personal opinion. Their branches don't spread as far, and their leaves aren't as... leafy. The leaves here aren't as full and don't provide as much shady relief from the sun as the leaves do at home. (To any Texas readers, please don't be offended that I dislike your trees.)

Despite the lack of greenery in Texas, it sure makes up the difference in warm weather. Of the nine weeks I've been here, only about seven or eight days have produced rain, and the majority of the time, it rained only during the night. The Texas heat is much less humid, too, which I could certainly get accustomed to!

Overall, Texas gets a four star rating from me. I have not seen as many cacti as I expected, but I won't count that against its rating. The people are very friendly here; strangers will wave to you as you pass by on the road, which is not something I typically see while driving down I-79. It's a little drier and less green than Pennsylvania, but it still feels like a second home.

Although I've lived with my Texas family in the Texas heat for the summer, I am still a Pennsylvanian on the inside. I am really looking forward to being back in Pittsburgh, visiting the Pointe and seeing the Pirates play at PNC Park. However, if you measure a true western Pennsylvanian by his or her use of "yinz," then you may consider me convert.

Yes, I do say "y'all" now... just without the Texas twang.

 

 

 

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Compared to my past two summers working with The Pittsburgh Project, this summer's job is A LOT of sitting, a lot more than I am accustomed to. Thankfully, one positive angle to the office life is having the motivation to get some exercise.

This past weekend was one such weekend when my cousin Taylor and I were feeling ambitious enough to go to LA Fitness. Now, if you know me, “athletic” is not in the top 10 adjectives that describe me. I just try not to embarrass myself too terribly when I participate in athletic activities. At the gym, I ran on the treadmill and biked a few miles, which is considered a good workout for me.

Then, I thought it'd be a good idea to venture to the intimidating section of the gym, where there are only machines with 100-pound weights with nondescript pulleys and levers. It's that section of the gym where everyone has six-pack abs and knows what they are doing...except for me.

Thankfully, I found one machine that seemed less complex than the others, the triceps machine. After a few reps and feeling like I was on my way to having chiseled arms like Jullian Michaels, I wiped the equipment off with the disinfectant wipes the facility provided.

That's when I heard a booming voice say, “Excuse me. Excuse me. Yeah you. Can you please come here for a minute, Miss?”

I peek to the other side of the triceps machine to see a big African American man. He was obviously one of the trainers at the fitness center, bearing the LA Fitness logo on his shirt.

My initial thoughts were, “Oh no. He's probably going to ask me what I was doing using that triceps machine and then tell me everything I was doing wrong.”

To my surprise, he just said, “Thanks for wiping the handles off on the work out machine. We really appreciate it.”

After a sigh of relief, I explained to him that my school's fitness center stressed the importance of sanitizing the machines after using them, and that was why I did it. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. His name is Dexter, if I remember correctly.

I'm not sure if I'll ever see Mr. Dexter again, but he taught me something valuable. This week, I learned that the greatest lessons are not always learned during an internship in the office (or even during school in the classroom for that matter).

The smallest things can make a great impact on people. A simple “thank you.” Holding the door open for someone. Giving someone a compliment. Maybe it's wiping off the work out equipment.

Don't be afraid to do the small things because the small things do matter, even if you may not see it.

 

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