There's Only One Place They Call Me One of Their Own

This summer, instead of renting a house near Myrtle Beach, my family decided to make use of our family’s shore house in New Jersey. My Carolina friends often ask me what the beaches in New Jersey are like and so, throughout our week, I found myself making mental lists.

Down the Shore



--Everything’s all right (couldn’t pass up a Springsteen reference, sorry).
--Boardwalks offer an evening activity. Rides, unique foods, all the t-shirts and beach stuff you might want to buy. Southern friends, think State Fair meets Wings/Waves/Eagles.



--Phillies shirts outnumber Carolina shirts 500:1.
--You pay for lots of things: parking your car, a pass to get on the beach, tolls on bridges and highways.
--Seagulls prowl the beaches relentlessly in search of discarded Cheetos. What they cannot find, they will steal from your unsuspecting hand.
--It’s crowded. New Jersey is the most densely populated state, and when you add in the vacationing Philadelphians, New Yorkers, and Canadians, it gets a little tight.
--You’re only 90 minutes away from Philadelphia, so you can get a decent cheesesteak or a water ice. You can also drive up to the city and catch a Phillies game.



--For me, it will always be a second home. The house my grandfather built all those years ago is not a beach-front palace, it’s not even air-conditioned. Inside its walls are many happy memories from childhood and young adulthood. The people in New Jersey are familiar, I know their culture, and I can speak with their accent. When I am down the shore, I have favorite places to go—a state park, a beach where I like to run, a pizza place I can’t refuse, a roadside stand that sells Jersey peaches.

At the Beach
--There’s plenty of room. Running on Carolina beaches is wonderful, low tide means lots of wide, flat sand for the exercise enthusiast.
--We can walk to the beach from wherever we rent. In New Jersey, we drive to the beach. If you forget something in Carolina, no big deal, you walk back and get it.
--There’s less hustle and bustle. Our Carolina beach vacations are opportunities for us to play the Wii, put together jigsaw puzzles, solve crosswords and read piles of books.
--The houses are bigger and renter-friendly.
--Seagulls go about their business peacefully. I have not known them to steal Pringles from my hand.
--If there was a famine, I still would not stop by the side of the road for a sandhill peach.
--Two words: outlet shopping!
--We are still finding favorite places to eat and visit. Even after several trips, it remains unfamiliar. We rely on websites and coupon books to recommend restaurants. We join the throngs at Broadway at the Beach because we haven’t figured out what else there is to do on a Tuesday night.

I’ve loved the beach for my entire life. If it’s got sand and salt water, odds are I will be happy there. But, I must confess a preference for the shores of New Jersey. If I spent the next 30 summers in the Myrtle Beach area, I would probably learn my way around and develop attachments to restaurants and parks. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to. It’s like Reese Witherspoon says in Sweet Home Alabama, “The truth is, I gave my heart away a long time ago, my whole heart, and I never really got it back.”

Something's Missing and I Don't Know How to Fix It

Today we interred the remains of my grandmother who passed away in March. Joining my aunt and uncle for the trip from Baltimore to the Philadelphia cemetery was my cousin Debbie.

Blonde and spirited, Debbie is a nurse and a mother of three. She was with my grandmother when she died and she was indispensable to us when we traveled to Maryland for the funeral in March. It is hard to be around her and not get the sense that family is her top priority. There are two Debbies in my memory—the present version and the hip, young beauty with a huge poster of Journey lead-singer Steve Perry above her bed. At some point, the Journey tour bus was exchanged for a mini-van, but I’m not sure when.

Meanwhile, on Facebook, my cousin Alison’s status is something like, “I need a ride to Philly area this weekend. Will pay gas and tolls. I will sleep a lot.” She is trying to head east from Pittsburgh so that she can join us for my parents’ 40th anniversary party. After graduating from Carnegie Mellon, she stayed on it Pittsburgh to do some intellectual job at some company. I don’t know the specifics.

I love my cousins, but there is a disconnect, and it bothers me.

When I am around my cousins, I have a great time. They’re funny, they have interesting jobs, they travel to fascinating places and, I like to think, if we didn’t live so far away, we could be great friends.

When my friends talk about going on vacation with their cousins, or casually getting together with their cousins, I admit, I’m jealous. Geography is one reason my cousins and I never got close as kids, age is another. Six of my cousins are significantly older than me. Three are much younger.

For the most part, though, we are all adults now. Age shouldn’t matter. We have Facebook and cell phones, so distance shouldn’t matter. So the question is…how do I pursue closer relationships with my cousins?

With Bill and Laurie—the amazing PTA parents and outdoor enthusiasts.
With Mike—who loves all the Philadelphia sports teams.
With Linda and Derrick—whose motorcycle adventures surely must bring them close to North Carolina from time to time.
With Alison—who has been known to read this blog and who was the first baby I remember holding (if only she’d been the last!).
With Kate—who is So. Much. Fun.
With Adam—who is the same age as some of my favorite people (see previous post).
With June and Louis—June with her stories of life in England.
With Debbie and Joe—who love family so much.
With Allen and Dawn—fellow Parrotheads.

There’s someplace to start with each of them, but where do I go from here? Comment away!

Isn't She Lovely

Four years ago, I started working with the high school students at my church. Like a freshman, I was awkward, unsure who to sit with and how to initiate a conversation with the students around me. My first year, I kept a pretty low profile, but as time passed and I spent more time with the students, I began to feel like part of the crowd. Now I enter the room with the swagger of a senior.

As a high school student myself, I had many friends and participated in a variety of activities. Reflecting on those days, though, I remember being insecure and immature and always somewhere just short of fitting in. The high school girls I work with now will probably describe themselves the same way in 20 years, but to my eyes, they are wise beyond their years and in many ways, stunningly beautiful.



Anna is the tenacious athlete. Yesterday I watched her learning to wakeboard behind a boat, face scrunched in determination, hands thrown up in frustration, leg muscles impressively bulging when she finally caught on. Inside her athletic frame beats a leader’s heart. She corrals the high school students into Nerf wars and birthday pranks.

Allison is a gifted musician, always singing something from Broadway or Glee. She disappears on Sunday nights to play the piano. When she speaks, she is hilarious. Dark and dry, her sense of humor betrays an old soul hiding in a teenage body.

Hannah is usually harmonizing with Allison. She, too, is always singing. I knew that if I wanted her to stay awake on the car ride home from the lake last night, all I had to do was put on some music she could sing along to. Tall and lovely, she is a natural in the spotlight, never scared to be goofy in a skit.

Marlena has the beauty of an Italian move star and the manners of English royalty. Always polite, always kind, she surprised us all by enlisting in the Marines after high school. She knows you have to work hard for what you want, so if getting to college means going through boot camp first, she will get to the end of the obstacle course.

Karen has learned to wait for things: a car, a cell phone, a laptop. Delayed gratification has made her more appreciative than her high school peers. God is using her to bring light to the restaurant where she works and soon He will send her into the mountains of western North Carolina to be a light on her college campus. There is no doubt she will be successful there because, in addition to being a good student, Karen is able to fit in with any group of people.

Claire is the all-American girl. Blonde and lovely, she is always busy with sports and clubs and friends. But she is no stereotype. Claire is a nurturing older sister and a devoted friend.

Kelly is the girl people flock to. She too is a busy athlete with many friends. Instead of letting popularity go to her head, Kelly steps back and trusts her parents’ advice. Her heart is tender. When she went to Africa, her mother’s greatest fear was not snakes or malaria, but that Kelly would become too attached to the orphans she worked with.

Alice is the thinker, the reader and the grown-up of the bunch. Tall and delicate, she carries herself with grace and maturity beyond her years. She enjoyed high school, but I get the feeling that Alice will really love the deep conversations and rousing discussions that await her at college this fall.

Abby is the fairy princess. Ethereal and silly, she can also be surprisingly grounded. Talk to her about the severe car accident that left her hospitalized for weeks and you will hear the voice of a godly, mature young woman. Talk to her about Mr. Darcy and you will meet a very funny girl.

Jersey Girl

Here’s another two-for-one special, because these two ladies are forever linked in my memory and in my heart.

I was working in my first classroom when Trish came in. She was wearing a t-shirt and some Adidas soccer shorts. I need to be clear, this is the first, last and only time I ever saw her dressed so casually. We were in a tiny school in New Jersey and, in a district where jobs were tough to get, Trish and I had both been hired that summer. She would be starting in third grade and I would be in fourth. Trish took me through the halls to meet another new teacher, Lynne, who was a special ed. teacher working with emotionally troubled students.

Since the staff was so small, we quickly formed friendships with everyone there, but our common newness bonded Lynne, Trish and me in a unique way. We ate lunch together every day and quickly became woven into each other’s worlds. Trish and Lynne, along with Sue and Heather (two other young teachers at our school), were my first adult friends. I didn’t know them growing up and we weren’t in college together. We met, and connected, as adults. We hung out at TGI Friday’s happy hour and went to Flyers games and concerts together. Tangent: Heather was my accomplice in paying my boss’s “ticket guy” $375 in cash to see N’Sync. For the record, it was worth every shady penny!

But we were also there for the grown-up milestones in each other’s lives. When Trish came to school wearing a beautiful diamond engagement ring, Lynne and I screeched and cheered in my classroom. When Lynne’s first pregnancy gave her a craving for Ding Dongs, she brought in enough to share with all of us and when her precious daughter arrived, wild horses could not keep us away from the hospital. When I decided to leave these dear friends and move to North Carolina, Trish threw the best party anyone has ever thrown for me.

This week marks my seventh year in North Carolina, y’all. I had six years with Trish and Lynne in New Jersey. Even though I’ve lived away from them longer than I lived with them, these ladies are still good friends. In a couple weeks I will be with them again and I can’t wait. I can’t wait for the warm welcome, the rowdy laughter, the good-natured teasing, and the bittersweet tang of confronting what I left behind.

Looking for Adventure, and Whatever Comes Our Way

It is not always easy to travel with someone. People move at different paces and appreciate different aspects of their surroundings. When surroundings are unfamiliar, fuses get shorter and the fatigue that accompanies a day’s travel can quickly set alight a short fuse.

Knowing this, it was risky to travel to Ireland with Laura two years ago. We were a part of the same Bible study and shared many friends, but we’d never spent much time hanging out without a group of buffers. The first sign that things would go well was when we each took some time to do independent research and came up with a list of places we wanted to visit. When we got together, our lists were very similar. The planning stages of itineraries, maps, and online hostel reservations made us both giddy with anticipation.

Arriving in Ireland, I was anxious. What would it be like to have only Laura with me for two weeks? Would we tire of each other? There was no need to worry, because traveling with Laura was easy. Both teachers, we understood in the importance of going to the bathroom whenever one was available. Neither wanted to spend a lot of money, so breakfast and lunch foods were bought at grocery stores when we had the chance. Instead of letting exhaustion and frustration turn us against each other, we acknowledged them, vented, got some sleep and moved on. As a result, I remember my trip to Ireland not only for the spectacular sights, but also for the thoughtful conversations that were had on buses and DART trains.

Two years later, Laura is married and settled in a lovely home. She has a thriving garden (complete with homemade topsy-turvy planters) and a screened-in porch that is perfect for hosting pot-luck dinners and lively conversations. In her home, it is typical to find her engaged in a project (experimenting with a recipe or painting a room), but you’re also just as likely to find her curled up with warm coffee and a good book.

It’s the contrast that makes Laura someone I love to be around. She is completely at ease in her home or climbing over a fallen tree on a hike. She will cook a whole chicken for her friends, or drain a pint in a Galway pub with equal grace.

Just this morning she and I headed off for an adventure*. It’s great to have someone who enjoys traveling and stomping around in the woods with me. But I also love the intellectual adventures we share: a women’s book club, and a subscription to our town’s theater. Whether our adventures are intercontinental or cerebral, we always seem to keep in step with each other. No matter how far we travel, I am always at home with her.

*Addendum: Laura and I were turned on to letterboxing by a friend of Emily’s last week. This morning we headed into the wilds of the Uwharrie National Forest in search of a letter box, along with another near the Pisgah Covered Bridge in Randolph County.

Thanks to Wikipedia: "Letterboxing is an outdoor hobby that combines elements of orienteering, art, and puzzle solving. Letterboxers hide small, weatherproof boxes in publicly-accessible places (like parks) and distribute clues to finding the box in printed catalogs, on one of several web sites, or by word of mouth. Individual letterboxes usually contain a notebook and a rubber stamp. Finders make an imprint of the letterbox's stamp, either on their personal notebook or on a postcard, and leave an impression of their personal stamp on the letterbox's "visitors' book" or "logbook" — as proof of having found the box and letting subsequent letterboxers see who have visited. Many letterboxers keep careful track of their "find count"."

Hey Soul Sister

When our rented van pulled into the EPCOT Center parking lot in November, whoops and cheers filled the air. We didn’t have an eight-year-old in the van, nor a troop of Brownies. The creator of the joyful noises was my sister-in-law Christine. The last time she visited Disney World, there was no EPCOT, so she was pumped—to say the least.

Christine’s week in Orlando was filled with childlike wonder. She seized every opportunity to have a photo op with the characters and took in every parade or show she could manage. When I was auditioning for the American Idol experience, it was her hand that shot up when asked who wanted to accompany me through the process.



Surely someone who lives with such joy and wonder must have had a charmed life, right?

Not even close. Surgeries, sicknesses, and heart-breaking losses have marked her life from an early age. Which leads one to wonder, how has she survived, let alone thrived?

At the core of my sister-in-law is an unshakable faith. When she talks about the children she has lost, she speaks with calm and peace. It’s not denial or false optimism that holds her—it is her Savior. Christine has accepted her suffering without losing hope. She is confident that God is in control and that, whatever the outcome, He will be glorified in the family she and Dave have.

Many people talk about trusting God, but it hits me so much harder when Christine shares nuggets of her faith with me. She has been to the abyss. She has carried an unbearable burden. Because she hasn’t carried it alone, because she has rested in her Savior, He has given her joy that is as deep and profound as her sorrows have been.

What a blessing God gave to our family on July 5 seven years ago. I love you, sister!

Might Be a Quarter-Life Crisis

I've been off-task this week (blame the free chicken), so here's a 2-for-1 special.

My friend Tabitha has determined that she is going through her quarter-life crisis. Every day of her summer vacation has been a chance for her to gain some new insight or a draw a new conclusion. Tonight we were having a “conversation” via Blackberry Messenger and I told her about a decision I was chewing on. Her response was a long time coming, but when it appeared on my phone, it was mature and wise. I had to ask, “Who ARE you?”

Isn’t that the glorious thing about our mid-20’s? During this season of life, we do the hard work of finding out who we are—separate from our parents and from the identities of groups to which we belonged in school.

I don’t mean to imply that Tabitha wasn’t wise or mature before this summer, but it is clear to me that she is moving forward into adulthood with confidence, swagger, and—a Tabitha MUST—humor.

A short history lesson: I met Tabitha through our church’s adopt-a-college-student ministry. We were paired up in 2005 or 2006. The way the ministry is explained, a family will share a meal with their college student once a month, but Tabitha and I were more likely to go for smoothies and walk through Target. Our friendship continued and when she tired of dorm life and took up temporary residence in my house’s second bedroom. Temporary residence became full-time residence before she began student teaching.

Life with Tabitha was fun, raucous and—very important for roommate dynamics—easy. We watched a lot of reality TV, ate a lot of Taco Bell, and became Wii tennis champions. We laughed a lot at the kind of inside jokes that roommates have that no one else really gets, so I’ll spare you.

It wasn’t all fun and games. Sometimes there were serious conversations about jobs, taxes, and relationships. What I learned about Tabitha from these conversations and from watching her develop as a new teacher is that she doesn’t settle for second-rate. If Tabitha sets her mind to doing something, she will work hard and become great at it. This is why I have no doubt that she will emerge from her quarter-life crisis a confident, competent and comical young woman.

And since I’m on the subject of friends and quarter-life crises, I’m going to go ahead and be Debbie Downer and talk about another friend of mine. You might think of her as the one who got away.

When I was a young buck (doe?) in my mid-20’s, I had a really strong friendship with a girl I’d met in sixth grade. After graduating from college, we were in similar places in our lives—living back home, working with high school youth groups, adjusting to our first jobs.

During this season, I was working out how my faith would influence my life: the choices I would make, the friends I would pursue, the future I would envision. God was doing a lot of work in me and He used this friend of mine to help me along.

We did Bible studies together over the phone because she lived in another town. We used our new cell phones to have long, deep conversations about boys and unmet desires and finding fulfillment. Of course we had fun, too. We would spend Saturdays in Manhattan, seeing Broadway shows, or we’d visit friends in Maryland for a weekend. One summer we even went “on tour” visiting friends throughout the mid-Atlantic region.

Unfortunately, there were signs that this friendship wasn’t healthy, that one of us needed the other a little too much. It seemed like the only way to fix that was by putting some space between us. I can’t remember the last conversation we had. Surely if it had been angry or heated, I would remember it, right? By the time I got to North Carolina, we had lost touch completely.

A while back, I sent her a message on Facebook and we had a good exchange going, until the replies stopped coming. I hate having unfinished business (this is why I don’t leave dirty dishes in the sink), and this friendship is unresolved. Or maybe, like an art-house film, this friendship ended quietly and awkwardly, leaving me wondering what it had been about.

What a Wonderful World

I'm borrowing pictures from Tabitha's facebook album. To get the full view of larger photos, click on them. Enjoy!

It’s 11:00 on a Wednesday night. A DJ is playing beach music and 80’s classics. As the theme from Footloose is cranking, games of wall ball, four square and corn hole are being played. People are milling about, some are sitting in tents, while yet others read.

Tabitha has just returned from brushing her teeth with her finger. I was interrupted while writing this to participate in the Cupid Shuffle.

Kara got her picture taken with an elderly gentleman in a cow hat. We’ve been together since before 5 this morning.

We are waiting for a new Chick-fil-A to open. Kara and Tabitha were randomly chosen to be one of the first 100 people to dine here, a distinction that will provide them with 52 coupons for a free #1 combo, a t-shirt, and a great story to tell about the day we spent in the parking lot.


Tabitha’s friend Beth (aka Guest of #30) and I (aka Guest of #41) have been treated equally well by the new restaurant crew.

We’ve all enjoyed free meals (a chicken biscuit, a Chick-fil-A sandwich, and a dinner of our choice). We took a behind-the-scenes tour—during the frenzied dinner hour—and we’ve played a few games organized by the marketing team.

A police offer is patrolling, Styrofoam cup in hand, making sure that no one without a wristband is lurking. Interlopers are sent away with a coupon for a free sandwich. Throughout the day, others have wandered the parking lot. At one point, the young employees came out and chatted with us, along with several managers and owners. Truett Cathy’s son Dan was here, and of course, there has been a cow on the premises.

My mother just called to tell me they saw me dancing on the evening news.

As summer days go, this has been exceptional. Three free meals, plus an ice cream sundae. Good conversation and a fun, safe atmosphere. I’m already wondering when I can do this again and hoping my brother will be able to join—he would love this. Anyone would love this.

It's been my pleasure.