Thursday, March 29, 2012

Daniel

Today, my heart is heavy as I ache for the company of someone, yet I know that it is unattainable. My dear friend Daniel passed away yesterday.

Words cannot describe this emotion. I can't fathom how to write anything in this post that isn't just a jumbled mess of silly letters that can never bring to justice who he was... and who he always will be. The spirit of my community is broken today, as we mourn the loss of someone who has influenced us to the core of our being.

He was doing what he loved - performing for God. Daniel was part of a Master's Commission Program in the Netherlands. Recently, he had been exploring other parts of Europe as well. He was so excited when he first signed up for the program. He told me about it when we sat next together in Anatomy class. "Angela, I don't think I'm going to University of Washington anymore, and I don't feel like the Navy is right either. But my sister told me about this really great program where I can lead worship throughout Europe." Fast forward to almost a year from that little chat. A few weeks ago, he told me of his travels to Rome and of his purchase of gummy bears (his favorite) in Vienna. Yesterday, he was in Moldova, a small country squished between Ukraine and Romania. Moldova, like most of eastern Europe, is third-world.

After not feeling well for several days, Daniel's body was found lifeless in the shower. The cause is thought to be carbon monoxide poisoning. Moldova, because of its poor state, isn't always up to date in meeting standards for living.

He built a beautiful life over 19 years, and a quick shower took it away from us in a matter of minutes.

But the legacy he built in that short time can never be torn down - not by flood nor fire nor even poisoning.

Daniel was the absolute epitome of talent and humility - a combination that not many people can come by. He moved us all from the first note of any song. He was the star of every show, but he never needed the solo to shine. His genuine smile and open countenance did that all on its own. And when he didn't get to be the leading man, he never complained. He never thought himself better than others... although we all know he was better than any of us. He truly had the voice of an angel.

I had the privilege of knowing Daniel very personally. He graced us with his presence at my church, where we sang together often. Oh boy, was he a character. He hated cheese because he had a bad experience with the moldy kind when he was little. In Colorado Springs, he drove into the shoulder lane and drove past the rush-hour traffic so we could make it to the Mill on time. He played the drum set like a pro the first time he ever tried it. He was awesome in Anatomy class, but he had the hardest time ever dissecting the pig because he was too tedious to dig into it. He had personality bulging almost as big as his muscles, which he freely admitted, "It's just because I'm Honduran. We naturally have big muscles."

He was one of the best confidants I have ever had. The questions I could ask no one, I could ask Daniel. He took an interest in what I had to say every time, usually followed by a good piece of advice. He spoke with kindness but with truth, and he always ended with, "Angela, I'll be keeping you and this situation in my prayers. Keep me updated."

I got to go to lunch with him one last time when he was home during Christmas (a God-sent surprise visit). He bought my lunch and we just sat in his bulky Ford Explorer by the Duck Park, relaying our experiences. I told him all about my flighty plans for college, and he just told me that whatever I did, I would be great. It always meant a lot to hear it from Daniel... if anyone would be great at anything, it would be him. He told me all about Amsterdam. How he thought Dutch was a really ugly language, but he loved talking to the people there. How he enjoyed the constant rain. How citizens of the Netherlands were so true to themselves and never put out by trivial things. How he was disappointed that he couldn't talk to more girls because of strict program rules. What a flirt. He was the biggest charmer I've ever known, but never would he think to take advantage of it.

The last part of the conversation will keep me going during this sad time. Daniel told me that he finally thought he was learning to love others unconditionally. He's always been a perfectionist, so he naturally had lots of pet peeves. He told me he was finally experiencing true, deep, genuine love for others, regardless of their humanity. It's no wonder he couldn't stay with us on Earth any longer.

His love was beyond human.

Daniel, you will always be missed. Gone, but never forgotten. You are home now, in the perfect love that you so freely gave to others.

Thank you.

Saturday, March 3, 2012

Three Years

Three years.

Three years of waking up Saturday after Saturday at 4:30 AM to compete in Original Oratory. Three years of looking like a complete idiot practicing gestures in the mirror. Three years of scouring ballots, searching for any tidbit of information that could help me be better.

Three years of trophies, team dinners, and congratulatory smiles. Three years of "You're going places!" and "Just wait until you take this piece to state!"

Three years of wanting more than anything to qualify for nationals... and three years of bawling my eyes out behind the deserted vending machines when it didn't happen.

Today, as a high school senior, I said goodbye to my dream of qualifying for nationals. While it may be trivial in the long run, it still hurt like none other. It made me want to tear all my ballots, throw away all my medals, and tell myself I am simply not good enough. And when that stage passed, it made me want to blame it on other people, mainly my judges.

Dear judges (these are sole opinions of Angela and in no way are meant to be taken personally):
1) Original Oratory is supposed to be... original. Talking about discrimination doesn't quite cut it.
2) It is not interp. Once the speaker starts sword fighting himself, it's gone too far.
3) It is not extemp. I don't need 7 cited, dated sources. That's why they have file boxes and I don't.
4) When you write on my ballot "Great job! You're an awesome speaker! Reach for the stars!" and then give me a 5, I can't help but feel like you're bipolar.
5) Are you even listening to me?
6) Yes, I am at 9:41. Now could you watch me finish my conclusion before you tune out? The stopwatch can count the time for you...
7) Are you even listening to me??
8) It's called the Oratory Formation. Back center, left, right, center, forward. Just because the other competitors don't know the Bible of Oratory doesn't mean I should be counted down for not moving enough.
9) Don't write "No pop culture examples" on my ballot when I talk about both Charlie Sheen AND Kim Kardashian! WINNING!
10) Are you even LISTENING to me???

Alright, so maybe I overreacted a tiny bit. After all, my judges are older than me, smarter than me, and overall less biased than I am. They see a bigger picture than I do.

But where do I fit in that picture? Am I forever destined to be the "almost qualifier" girl? Do I really just suck at public speaking and no one has bothered to tell me?

Questions flood my mind about the incident, and I know they will for a long time. I don't understand how I can win tourney after tourney and fail at the times when it counts the most. I don't understand how OOs that I see as having no substance can beat me. I don't understand why I can't win.

But what does winning mean anyway? One of the OOs I've heard countless times this season has forever engrained this line into my head: "You, and only you, have the power to make yourself a winner." Is it true, though? Can I be a winner when I feel so crummy? Can I be a winner when after three years of hard work, I have no national qualifier plaque?

I choose to say yes. I choose to see opportunities for what they are - a forever replenishing source. I choose to recognize the skills I've gained over the trophies I haven't. I choose to use my loss to my advantage: Losing is a beautiful concept because it opens the door wide open for improvement. For goal-setting, for another chance, at a different time, to succeed.

Maybe my judges were right. Maybe the other orators were more creative, more expressive, more passionate, or more logical than I. Maybe they were better than me.

And I'm ok with that.

Here's to the next three years.