navigators and explorers

When I was a student, I enjoyed hearing the stories about explorers.  Remember?  Columbus, Magellan, Ponce de Leon, Balboa, Cabot, etc. 

This week after school my daughter began participating in high school soccer conditioning. This is a new thing.  She hasn't played organized soccer in years.  Apparently her school's team isn't that great [only what I've heard...no offense if you're on the team] and she has a friend or two who are on the team.  She likes to run; she's looking to fill some time.  So, she's decided to give it a try.

Our son has a game plan for the next four years.  College is mapped out.  He knows what he's good at and what he enjoys.  He doesn't need a navigator as much as he previously did.

Daughter Allie is a different story.  She wants to see the world, at least the European part.  She wants to be a foreign exchange student.  She likes to take photographs, she likes fashion, she likes music, reading, and, like I mentioned above, she enjoys running.  She wants to be an explorer.  But at this point, she still needs a navigator. 

Navigator.  
I think that's the parents' role when you have a teenager.  Show them the options, the course, the different routes, all the while giving your input. A guide, so to speak.

Explorer
Some people are geared for sailing.  Metaphorically.  These types want to see the world, experience different stuff.  And chances are, they're ready to go.....today [ie now].  That's my daughter.  She's ready to sail on out of the harbor.  Yet she really doesn't have a clue on how to get the ship out of the harbor, and once she got it out, she wouldn't know which way to steer.  Not because she's unintelligent.  Because she is inexperienced. 

I'm finding this season to be one of endings and beginnings.  I suppose when the explorers mentioned above set sail they had to realize they were saying good-bye, possibly forever to how things were.  They were headed for a new world filled with adventures and who knows what.  

All that's great, in respect to the raising a teenager perspective.  While I'm excited to see where my kids end up, I'm saddened to step out into unknown waters.  There's a chance things will forever change.  Actually, it's more than a chance.  They're going to move on and I'm going to stay here.  Unless of course I follow them.  Which is not out of the question.  Doesn't every ship need a navigator?

surfer table

Sometimes I wonder if I have any business doing what I do.  Being where I am. Living where I live. Etc.

Midway through my college years, I transferred schools.

Northern Arizona University

I went from a state university to a small, private school.  I moved my educational life from the forested mountains of northern Arizona to the beach.  As in San Diego.  As in this:

Point Loma Nazarene University

These are two of the dorms at PLNU.  My senior year, my roommate and I had a view of the ocean.  I am confident I never will again from my living quarters.

One of the things I noticed early on about PLNU was the cafeteria situation.  At my former school, the cafeteria was large and I and my fellow diners ate wherever we chose for the particular day.  There was no real order or method to our choosing.  Well, at PLNU, there were a couple of tables I will refer to as the "surfer tables".  Ironically to me, they were not near the wall of windows affording the ocean view, but nearest to the buffet line's end.

The people that sat at these tables were surfers.  Mind you, when I say surfers, I mean actual surfers.  It didn't take long to realize these folks were different than the rest of us.  They dressed differently, they talked differently, and for the most part, they seemed to stay to themselves.  It was a small school attendance wise, very similar in size to my high school.  Everyone knew who everyone was.  Not necessarily by name, but by association.  I don't know how they came together so quickly, but from day one, the surfers knew to sit together at meals.

No one else sat at their tables.  Sure, there were other kids who knew how to surf, who owned a surf board, who kept one in their dorm room.  Others who occasionally went out on the water for an afternoon.  But these guys, these guys were the serious ones.  We actually had a surf team.  And they were actually quite good.  This clique, so to speak, was mainly males.  But there were a few females who were part of the group.  I'm not really sure how all the girls got in.  I know some of them could truly surf, but I'm not sure about all.

I've always been a bit of a sociology buff.  This type of group intrigues me.  There is very little chance another type of person, no matter how cool, exciting or popular was going to break into their pack.  They weren't necessarily snotty or holier than thou.  Many of them were friendly enough.  They just had this small society thing going on. 

You can join most entourages.  Hang out enough and eventually, you'll most likely become part of the group, provided you have beauty or money or something to offer.  If you can make the group better, they'll let you in.  But eat at the surfer table?  No.  You had to be one of them. 

Despite my niceness, whether or not I taught myself to surf, how many Gidget episodes I watched as a girl, or how much time I put in researching the surfing life, I was not going to be invited to sit at their table.  I was not one of them.

There are days when I feel that way now.  I no longer have a minor obsession with surfers.  I got over that in 1988.  No, this has to do with what I am today. Some days, I feel like I'm trying to fit into something that I have no business in.

Kentucky is a hard place to move into.  Despite having lived here for 9 years [and this is the 3rd time I've lived here, making for a grand total of about 14 years], I often don't feel totally at home.  Strong yet often misinformed opinions, low educational standards and the fact that Kentucky ranks 49th in happiness out of the 50 states doesn't help.

Lately I question whether I am ridiculous for living in my neighborhood.  Do I have a clue?  Am I naive?  Can I possibly make a difference on a street which the police frequent with flashing lights?  Where do I begin?  I'm not here as part of a {missional} trend.  I'm not part of a group of people, except the three I live with.  We're not here to represent a movement or a fad.  We're here because we want to bring hope to a street that could use some.

Do I have to become a different person to bring hope?  Sometimes it seems that way.  Sure, I've changed through the years and grown.  But for the most part, I still like the same things I've always liked and have not developed into some pseudo personality.  

I'm sure most people have doubts and questions.  I realize that's normal.  But lately I wonder.  I really wonder if I am a square peg, so to speak.

Or perhaps, I'm once again over analyzing everything.  I tend to do that.