I figured it might be good to post an update before I am computer-less for the next five days. Tomorrow morning I’m leaving to go to Soul Fest in New Hampshire and won’t be back until Sunday night. I’m pretty sure I’ll be without the internet for the duration (ahh!) so now would be a good time to fill in the post-NCP blanks.
The last night of NCP was… unforgettable. I’m trying to think of a word to describe it that would give you a picture of what I mean but there really aren’t any words for it. The banquet was really something. I think Chef Walter must have finally listened to my complaints about the bland food because someone cooked up some crazy hot chicken. I sat with my team, Laurence, my boss Jake and his wife Jamie. After dinner we went up to the Great Hall where we saw a photo slide show (which included a great picture of Doug as Dawson Trotman), after which we had a number of the people in the program get up to speak. I got up - I’m still not quite sure why - and read the poem that I’ve got posted below this entry. I really don’t like to read my writing in front of people, as was evident with the shakiness of my voice and my inability to articulate simple thoughts. But I’m glad I did. Sooner or later I’ll have to get over this (probably sooner, since I’m taking a public speaking class this fall). Adam got up and told everyone about the food prank that wasn’t. When he’s got time to prepare what he’s going to say he’s a brilliant speaker, and very creative with his examples (i.e. Kat’s little black box: *stomp* *stomp* *stomp*). There was a strange mixture of disbelief and melancholy in the air when this part of the night ended. This was the last official NCP function, but I think internally none of us wanted to hear that.
So what do we do? Build a fire and keep the night alive, of course! This was up at the Echo Rock amphitheater. It was just a time of talking, really. Some people played some worship music, some people acted out some improv on the little stage. But for the most part people sat around the fire and talked with one another, sharing what was on their hearts and minds as they reminisced on the past and looked forward to the future.
As people began to disperse and the campfire faithful grew to a select few there came a point where I was sitting alone and everyone else there seemed to be engaged in a deep conversation with one or two other people, the type you can’t just join without it being awkward. I sat alone there and thought about the way I had spent my time at NCP. Andy Larkin had warned me that I would have a great deal of time on my hands this summer and it would be up to me to invest it wisely. As I took stock of my summer I couldn’t help but feel like Oscar Schindler.
Let me explain. The more I comment on this movie the more people I find who have never seen Schindler’s List, so let me try to reconstruct the scene for you. It’s near the end of the movie. I don’t mean to spoil it for you but he saves a whole bunch of Jews from the Nazi death camps by giving them jobs in his factory. The war is over, and now Schindler is leaving the scene. This is the first time that he sees all the people he’s saved over the course of the war all in one place at the same time. And the gravity of what he’s done starts to set it. He then begins to look at his possessions - his car and a decorative pin on his jacket for example - and asks himself why he didn’t sell them in order to get the necessary money to get more Jews as workers. He becomes emotionally overwhelmed, and can only think of what he could have done rather than what he has done.
This was me, only my Jews were my effectively used time and my possessions were my wasted time. And though it’s true that I invested myself into so many different areas this summer all I could think about were the places I fell short. And the one place that I kept coming back to as a miserable failure was my time spent getting to know people. In part I blame the levels system. Early on at NCP we had a relationship talk where we described various “levels” of conversation, with lower levels being everyday events and the higher levels being hopes, dreams, and hurts. Basically we were challenged to keep our conversations to low levels, which for the cohesion of the program was probably a great idea. But as I began to look at who I had gotten to know - who I’d really gotten to know on a level anywhere past the surface - it began and ended with my teammates. I value those relationships dearly, but I couldn’t help but feel like I could have gotten closer to more people. I probably spent an hour or more alone wondering if, when I left, I would retain any of the friendships I had made, convincing myself that if I didn’t that a large part of this summer would have been a failure.
I finally did join another conversation, keeping my mind from further punishing me. We began to talk about what verse spoke to us the most this summer and the song that would best describe our summer. For me it was John 16:33 and the hymn In The Garden (think: “and He walks with me and He talks with me…”). After a short hike to see a scary face in the side of a rock (lame) a group of us went to Waffle House, where I further punished myself by ordering a triple hash brown with extra jalapeños (and, of course, I doused it with Tabasco sauce). This was at around 3 AM, mind you, and I think at this point we were all starting to lose our minds. And our inhibitions. Sort of. This is all just my humble (expert) opinion, but try to understand: the combination of the levels system, the no-dating-only-marriage rule, and the fact that Navigators are already never-daters at heart took its toll on forty college students forced to live and work with each other over the course of two months. It was like the Real World, only with Jesus. So back to Waffle House. Beki somehow coerces us to start a massage train, which is of course accompanied by all manner of easily misinterpreted stress relief noises. After this we all leave Waffle House, which required us to cram four people into the backseat of a compact car. Now on the way over this wasn’t a big deal, but all of a sudden it’s a major production (who sits on who’s lap, etc.).
I’m not sure exactly what time we got back to the Glen, but it was nearing sunrise. The big plan was to stay up all night, capping things off by watching the sun rise from Ladybug Lookout. We made it to the top of the lookout just as the sun was rising, though we really couldn’t see it on account of the clouds. Here the release of inhibitions continued, where everyone seemed to be intent on giving each other raspberries and “digging holes” in each other (it’s a facilities thing; I don’t get it either). Then we winked at each other in an effort to judge who had a good wink (evidently mine makes Heather swoon). Oh man. All manner of goofiness occurs after a sleepless night.
We hiked down and it was just about time for me to get going to the airport. I said my goodbyes, keeping a stiff upper lip and doing my best to point to signs of our future reunion rather than the present departure. When I said goodbye to Adam I realized that I had gained a true brother, a like mind in a world where I often feel like no one else thinks the way I do. Saying goodbye to the Dutch was the hardest, especially to Christiaan and Guido. But I am a man of my word, and we will see each other again in Holland. Tim and Beki drove me to the airport. This will sound bad at first, but it was easy to say goodbye to Beki, and that’s because there has always been so much confidence in Beki’s voice about seeing her again. Saying goodbye to Tim was tough, not for the opposite reason, but because he’s been my partner all summer. Five days a week I’ve spent eight hours of my day with no one but Tim. Now I’ve got to go cold turkey without him.
I walk into the airport and who should I see but the three NCPers that left earlier than I did that I didn’t get to say goodbye to. Just when I think the emotional roller coaster is over I find that there’s another dip. I check in and come to find that my connecting flight to Denver has been canceled. They put me on a bus, where I promptly sleep the next few hours away. When I arrive at the airport I find my gate, board my plane unceremoniously, and proceed to sleep those hours away until I touch down in Boston. My parents pick me up, we go out to a nice restaurant, and we drive home. Those hours between leaving the Glen and arriving at my home are a complete blur. I remember almost nothing.
So as of today I’ve been in Connecticut for a week. My life has returned to normal, and I’m starting to discover just how monotonous normal can be. I’ve spent my time revisiting old pursuits: reading, writing, piano, web design, fantasy baseball. I’ve put some time into the Yahoo group for NCP. I’ve gotten deep into Blue Like Jazz. I’ve searched for a job in Tallahassee, so far to no avail. I’ve finalized the membership of next year’s Nav worship team at FSU. Lots of little chores and activities. I’m thankful that Soul Fest starts tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll come back wanting this mediocrity after five days of concerts. So far I have truly missed NCP. Mostly the people, but even the job and sometimes even the crazy schedule they had us on. I haven’t fully absorbed the experience, but I can tell you that I grew a lot and was blessed by my time out there. I will miss it, but I look forward to seeing everyone again in New York this New Years. Until then…
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