Never before had I lived in a community of guys. Quite the opposite, really, since I resided with my Mom and sister through most of high school. I learned what it was like to live as men - eating cereal for breakfast lunch and dinner on weekends, leaving the toilet seat up permanently, trying to understand the mysteries of the women-folk, and of course the 'pants optional' rule. I realized that, despite how things seem sometimes, I'm not alone in a lot of my circumstances.
In addition, I learned the incredible value of a communal faith. My experiences here in Nevada had, unbeknownst to me, placed a distinct emphasis on the individual side of my faith. It was my relationship with my Savior, and I went to my church to read my bible, etc. At CCU, however, I saw the beauty and necessity of a group of believers. I saw how the epistles were written to communities, how the Torah was recited to a community, how the Church is not a building but a community of Christ-followers. Looking back, it all seems so obvious, the importance of community. I guess I just had to experience it to come to terms with the necessity.
I remember how I felt before my first day started. I asked my RA, Nick, how difficult classes were. I asked if he did well his freshman year, if the professors were hard, whether the classes had vertical learning curves. I was scared to death that I would fail. I had done well in high school, but that seemed so trivial. Dayton High School isn't exactly the pinnacle of college prep, and I had convinced myself that everyone around me knew exactly what was in store for them.
I recall meeting my roommates. Dan was first, since he showed up early for the athletes' retreat. He had spiky blonde hair, three tons of Top Ramen, and spoke with a humorous, hesitant tone that to me gave no indication of his Missouri origin. Cameron was next, lumbering in with his super deep voice and autographed Leeland t-shirt which he promptly pinned to the wall in our bedroom. He was a surfer dude from southern California, tanned and muscular. He walked around for the first week or so of school barefoot. Mike was last, carrying his guitar and amp up the stairs into our room with his dad close behind. Quiet and reserved, he didn't look anything like his Facebook pictures led us to believe.
I remember, a few weeks into my college experience, how I echoed the words of a friend; "One month ago, I was scared of coming to college. How strange." From there, everything was a blast. I reveled in the challenge of some professors and breathed in the simplicity of Gen. Eds. I stayed out late some nights and woke up early some mornings.
I got acquainted with the other members of the Ghetto through various exploits. There was the Jeep ride to downtown with Camo, the days of Winter Term with Nick, the visits to Chili's with Logan, Dan The Man, and Austin, the trip to Copper Mountain with Big Mike, and the 'draining' with Scott and Austin.
Now I stand poised on the edge of my second year back in the Ghetto. I'm pretty scared, to be perfectly honest. I know that nothing is ever the same, especially given the nature of a community - each year brings new challenges, new faces, and new opportunities. Im afraid that the Ghetto guys won't be as fun or as cool as my group were. Or that there will be a lot of fighting and bickering. Or any number of things, really.
Yet at the same time, I'm unbelievably excited. I can't wait to see how the Ghetto grows together this coming year. I look forward to game night with the Boondocks, to my D-Group, and to everything else the Ghetto entails.
And besides, I'm sure that three or four weeks into this coming semester, I will once again be saying to myself, "One month ago, I was scared of coming to college. How strange."
Funny how life works.
Thanks for reading,
-Daniel K
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