Like Coming Home


I want to know about homesickness. I want to know that my handwriting reminds me of my mother. I want to know that chocolate reminds me of Sunday mornings.

I want to know if there will ever be a day when I don’t miss home. I want to know that the answer will always be no.


I want to know that leaving home is a pit in your stomach. I want to know that leaving anything is hard and that leaving something good is terrible. I want to know how to leave with grace; I want to know how to return with grace. I want to know that I am trying.

I want to know that some days I am homesick and some days I think I must be exactly where I need to be.

I want to know that some days are not the best days but I am still made kinder and bolder because of them. I want to know that everyday my capacity to love and to be kind grows. I want to know that the difference between happiness and anger is a choice. I want to know that this choice is never made for you. I want to know that I am learning.

I want to know that when I asked God to make me happier, he made me more loving instead.

I want to know that some days it feels bittersweet to change, but that most days it feels like coming home. •


xo | Megan

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life continues to move even when we aren’t ready

cover - life continues


forgetting is fast


After starting (and never finishing) multiple posts this summer, I’ve concluded that it’s impossible to catch up on everything I didn’t write about over the past seven months. I’m either too far removed from it that I’ll never be able to write about it or simply still need more time before I can write poignantly about not only my freshman year but also the summer that followed. In general, it was the worst year of my life but I’m 100% okay with the fact that it happened and feel as though it was necessary. Any amount of further detail I try to go into leads to a tangled mess of this-then-that accompanied by a thousand sideways glances. So, I’m leaving freshman year where it is. God has somehow taken the load of last year and replaced it with an overflowing amount of peace and grace and I am learning to take it with thankfulness and without question. I’m high key the happiest and most peaceful I have ever been even though less things are right in my life now than when I was at my lowest. The only explanation is something heavenly and I am ultimately at a loss for words. •



I straight up love the camp I go to every summer. I feel like everyone thinks their church camp is superior, but mine actually is…in my opinion ;). Having just finished my freshman year of college, I spent three weeks of June leading and loving and learning and sweating exclusively as staff. As weird as it was to realize that I would never be a camper again, it also felt unbelievably right. And in a strange way, being staff reminded me why I want to keep blogging. I spent the final week of the three making a yearbook. I threw a lot of what I would write in a journal or post online into a word document and printed it 100 times over, eventually handing it out to all the people I’d spent the week with. Documenting the week and our memories like that felt familiar because I used to document my entire life like that when I consistently blogged. I realized during that week how much I missed writing and taking photos, and how I’d never noticed before, but when I’m not blogging, my creative life loses its abundance. Blogging gives me an opportunity to be in a constant state of creativity in a way that I have never been able to replicate in a journal or otherwise. I want desperately to have that be part of my life again.

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This post is the first step toward getting back to where I was starting new and going in the directions that feel right. I’m struggling to change and grow this site as impossibly much as I personally have in the past seven months, and I’m finding ways to make it all work. It feels so good to be writing again and to be creating the first of many more. I love that life continues to move and change even when we aren’t ready, but gives us moments to catch up. So, hello again; I’ve been gone for a crazy amount of time but I’m finally catching up. •

still dynamite | Megan

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Necessary Days

Cover - Necessary DaysIt’s 2016 and I’m anxious about this year. As much as I don’t want to, I have to admit that. Twelve months and 75% of it is entirely unknown. I know the classes I’ll be taking this semester and that’s about the end of what I know. I’m trying hard to relax about it; if I learned anything from how uptight I was about my future when I was 15, it’s that I shouldn’t be uptight about my future. So, while waiting and wanting for things to happen, I think it’s probably good to be okay with not knowing. Once I get over the fact that I want to know, it gets exciting. I don’t know what will happen because anything could happen.

There’s still that fear though, isn’t there? Knowing that while anything good could happen, anything bad could happen as well. I could have to worst year of my life, right? It’s a possibility, and that’s the part that really gets to me. Of course I want the great things to happen and, ideally, the rest can just stay away. I don’t want the bad days. But…the bad days do have their place. Bad days pull you and stretch you and make you move. We can wish them away, but they must happen.

Thinking about the year ahead of me, I think that’s what I want most: for the things that need to happen to happen. If I need to learn from a year of mostly bad days, I’ll live through it. If I need to grow in a year of mostly good days, I’ll enjoy it and try not to take any of it for granted. Whatever happens, I hope for a year of necessary days. On this, I’m finding peace in an era of unknowns. Days will come and go like the snowflakes you catch on your fingertips, melting before you’ve had a chance to really see them. I’ll do my best to make them the best, but accept them as they come.

Necessary Days endIt’s 2016 and I’m anxious about this year. But I’m trying to relax about it.

stay dynamite. | Megan

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Writing About It

WritingAboutItwai-1I want so badly to write about my first semester of college. Of course I want to write about it, as “writing about it,” is what I’ve done for everything important in my life since I was eleven. There are blog posts in my archive and stacks of journals in my closet that stand to prove that “writing about it,” is simply what I always do. I almost think I’m afraid that in writing about it, I won’t do it justice; I won’t be honest about the things that mattered and I’ll over-dramatize the things which should really be forgotten. Writing about an entire semester in a handful of paragraphs seems daunting and impossible. It’s hard to write about it without feeling like I should include every detail. In the past, I’ve been almost obsessive about the amount that I document because I don’t trust myself to remember everything. Which, of course, is valid. It’s an inevitable truth that I won’t remember everything, but I also don’t need to. Sometime last year, I’d finally accepted this––that I’ll hold on to the things that matter and the rest I need to let go of. So, although I’m feeling the need to talk about every little thing as I write about my first semester, I’m accepting that I don’t need to.

Amid all the things that don’t matter enough to write about are the really important things that I almost feel like I must write about. I’ve accepted that I don’t have to write about everything, but I’m still trying to get a grasp on writing honestly about the things I need to write about. There are so many things that, looking back on this semester, I should have done differently. But there are also so many things that surprised me beyond belief and made the semester what it was. I’ve found that these are the things that I need to write about most.

wai-1musicThis semester started off with me, someone who hadn’t played piano since she was 8, playing keyboard in the Freshmen Fanfare band. It also involved me, someone who––still––hadn’t played piano since she was 8, playing Someone Like You on an unnaturally hard to play baby grand piano while singing, also for Freshmen Fanfare. Conversations during those days basically went a little like this: them: “I didn’t know you played piano!” me: “Neither did I!” Or, “How long have you been playing piano?” me: “Since three days ago.” As crazy as that experience was, surprising me by actually being enjoyable despite simultaneously being annoying, I realized that, sometimes, impulsively trying out for a show on piano leads to the best things. (Or, impulsively trying out for anything, as I realized later in the semester when I last-minute tried out for Spring Sing host and actually got a callback. Which was just another crazy experience that I could hardly believe was real.)

wai-music2I thought all of it was over in September after the second and final fanfare performance, but it turned out that I was dead wrong. As I texted my sister, “the saga of my piano playing continues!” because in November, I played keyboard with an actual band. (I say this almost like it’s a huge deal when, truthfully, it’s a small band, it was a small show, and, inherently, none of us are famous. But it was still so cool to get to do. And when they are famous, I’ll have a story to tell, right?) I laughed at myself every day because up until two months before, I would try to play something on piano and my sister (who is actually amazing at playing piano) would laugh at me and call it hopeless. It’s not exactly normal to go from not having played an instrument for nine years to performing in a little over a month. The fact that I’m an obsessive perfectionist and weirdly love practicing really paid off both for myself and for the people counting on me to play when I pulled through and actually played decently. Hands down, it was one of the highlights of my first semester to get to do something so unreal and so unexpected. This, along with the fact that I play flute in band, am in choir, and am basically in the music building way more than I should be, I get mistaken for being a music major often. And I don’t mind much because I genuinely love being involved in all of it. Back when I was preparing for my senior recital last spring, I realized why I love music so much despite not being very serious about it or wanting to pursue it as a career. I wrote on the back of my programs, “There’s a calmness I know I can always find in music. Throughout my life so far, writing song lyrics has been a major way of dealing with what’s going on around me, and playing music has been a way for me to productively focus restless energy. I’m always saying that I don’t get nervous when it comes to having to preform, and that’s because music is a source of release for me.” The fact that I can continue to do music (and in such big ways) in and throughout college means so much. My first semester took me in a direction laced with music that I never planned on going in, and it has made all the difference. •

wai-2gonehomewai-gonehome2Almost seven months ago, I wrote, “I know that when I come back I’ll have changed and they’ll have changed and while I can still expect it to feel so much like home, I can never expect it to be the same as it is now. These are the only moments I have that will ever be like this.” The reality of this inevitable changing is sinking in now that it really does feel different to be home after having been gone. Life and being here…it will never be the same as it was before I left, and I am desperately trying to realize this with grace and without conflict. I never know how to react when I come home. I’m undoubtedly overjoyed to be with my family again and can never stop smiling because of it, but it’s all so different at the same time. It’s almost easy to sink back into living life exactly as it was before I left, but it seems wrong to do that, doesn’t it? I’ve been gone for months and I’m going to come back and pretend like nothing’s happened? There isn’t a part of me that wants to live like that when I come home, but there is so much to be said about trying to connect the two: being gone and coming home. Even while at college, it’s hard to find that connection; it’s hard to feel like I’m the same person that I am while at home. The disconnection is so clearly there. I realize again, as I have many times and likely remind myself every single day, that I must live honestly because it is the only means by which I can find clarity. If I’m not acknowledging that things are different both when I’m away and when I’m home––that I’m not consistent and that I don’t know how to make my life feel connected and whole because I’m so horribly good at compartmentalizing the two from each other––I’ll never be able to find that clarity. Coming home and being gone all feels so strange, and remaining honest––so hopeless. But it’s in the honest moments where it all bleeds together. These are the moments that must take hold and take over. •

wai-3mistakeswai-mistakes2I wanted to take on my first semester with perfection, obviously. There’s not a thing in the world that I don’t take on without perfection in mind. Of course, my semester didn’t exactly go that way. Before leaving for college, I was at an unbelievably good place in my life; I was the happiest I’d probably ever been and was so, so content. In leaving, I desperately wanted to transition smoothly and perfectly, keeping whatever disposition I’d attained intact. No fear, no confusion, no mistakes, right? Naturally, in trying to do everything perfectly, I was really just doing it all wrong. What they don’t tell you is: there are going to be days when you realize you’re not friends with the people you should be friends with. There are going to be days when you miss home. There are going to be days when you don’t get 100% on an exam. There are going to be about a million moments where you don’t know what’s happening and you can’t do it alone. And I’ve found that if you don’t let these days happen, it all collapses in the end. Looking at it objectively, my semester went amazingly well. My grades were spot on, my sleep schedule was consistent, I was involved in music, I got picked to be the freshman intern for the university’s literary journal, I had people who I hung out with. Yet, just because every once in a while something didn’t go perfectly or I didn’t know exactly what I was doing or I felt like I was doing it all wrong, I started to view my entire semester in another light entirely. As the semester went on, I got so uptight about small things that honestly didn’t matter. As much as I hate it, that is what happened; that was part of my first semester of college. I got worried and sad and angry and never took a step back to give myself grace where I needed it most. The thing is, I got so concerned. Concerned that I was annoying or wrong or seen as the opposite of what I am. Now, looking back on it, I just needed to calm down and get over myself because I was just too wrapped up in all of it. I wasn’t letting myself make the mistakes I needed to make which was, admittedly, my greatest mistake altogether. •

wai-endI’m trying to take a deep breath as I enter into the new year and my second semester. I hope to keep doing the things I love doing and stop bothering with the things I don’t care about. I hope to continue getting the grades I want, but be okay with getting the grades I receive. I hope everyday to be more honest in kindness and stop saying that I hate things when the opposite is true. I hope to keep being involved in music. I hope to find that connection between being gone and coming home. I hope to let myself make the mistakes that are necessary. I hope to write more, because I’ve missed it. And I hope to extend grace not only to others, but also to myself.

stay dynamite :) | Megan

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