#IamVISTA, part two: 25 and Grandpa

I'm following up on this post today...sort of! I jump around a lot, so bear with me.

On 25

Last week I celebrated my 25th birthday.  I'll admit, it was a strange feeling.  It still is, I guess.  Last year, I was so excited about turning 24.  I couldn't wait!  Now that 24 is gone and 25 has come, I'm still feeling a little conflicted.  I'm officially in my mid-twenties.  I'm five years from 30.  I'm at the age where you can rent a car and your monthly car insurance premiums go down (Both car related, ironically).  I definitely don't feel 25, I know I don't look it, and I certainly don't act like it.  I've managed to hold jobs, keep a roof over my head and two cats alive for almost three years, I'm still nowhere close to having any definitive career goals, I have no plans to leave Berea anytime soon, and I haven't been on a date in approximately seven years.  Here's where's the conflicted comes in: Despite ALL of that, I have not yet had a complete and total freak-out.  I've come to accept these experiences and I carry them with me as I am halfway through month seven out of 12 of my VISTA year.  My past experiences prior to VISTA and the experiences I've been a part of during VISTA have shaped me into where I am now.  Which is 25, and so much more! 

Grandpa

Me (L), my sister, parents, and my Grandpa (2009)

For the past two years my birthday has been a bittersweet day for me, because as I celebrate another year of life for me and my twin sister, it is also a day of celebration for a life lost.  I lost my grandpa, after a few years of declining health, on April 9, 2013, my 23rd birthday.  He was 91 years old.  I know that many speak fondly of their loved ones that have passed on, using words such as "incredible" and "amazing" and "caring", but my grandpa really was an incredible person.   He was the oldest boy of nine siblings, and didn't have electricity in his home until he was 14.  He served in the army during WWII, and it was not something that he spoke of; in fact, I don't recall any stories of him from his service days.  He loved the Lord and his family more than anything.  He supported my grandmother as she lost her battle with Alzheimer's in 1995.  He taught me about Jesus, and he taught me and my siblings how to ride a bike.  He was a die-hard Republican, very soft-spoken and always an early riser, but undoubtedly one of the hardest working people I've ever known in my life.  He loved the Cincinnati Bengals and the St. Louis Cardinals, playing cards, and a cup of coffee after dinner.  When he came to visit, with the exception of his last few years of his life, he would always look for something around the house that needed fixing up.  That was his life: quiet, dedicated service, never expecting anything in return, with unrelenting devotion to his faith and his family.  When I think about my "S" in VISTA, I hope to carry those same attributes with me.  Period.

One of the reasons I enjoyed my PSO was that while all of us VISTAs were so vastly unique in our upbringings, our backgrounds, our experiences, where we lived and how we got there, we were all united by this common thread of being somehow touched by poverty and wanting to try to make a difference in our respective parts of the country.  I remember these stories shared during these two days, and I remember my grandpa, and I think I need to hold on to these memories whenever I get discouraged, frustrated, or when I'm just not feeling it.

My PSO group (I'm front and center; August 2014)

Bottom line: I miss my grandpa.  He left behind a legacy of pride in hard work and a family that wishes they could have one more minute with him.  But I love this work and this movement that I'm a part of.  I can't, and won't, be defined by a fixed point in time, a birthday.  I choose to be defined by my faith, my family and friends, and this drive to bring meaningful, tangible change to Appalachia.  Even if it takes 25 more years.