"The Time the Bus Died" and Other Stories from the Golden Wave Band

I'm just going to go ahead and tell you guys something. One of my all time favorite parts about going to Baylor is getting to be a part of the Baylor University Golden Wave Band, affectionately known as BUGWB (pronounced bug-WUHB).

I honestly don't know how my friends put up with me. What I do with the color guard tends to come up in many conversations and most of my wacky college stories involve events that occur when I'm with the band, or not even with the band itself, but band people. 

We're all pretty weird. In the best of ways, of course.

The Terrific Twenty of Texas 

I'm not going to say much more in introduction, because most of this post will be stories. So I thought that, as a storyteller-to-be, I could share some of my favorite off-beat tales with you. 

And I've neatly made headings for each. 

Old Sport

This one actually happened last year. So, a little back story. On the way to away games, the band watches movies on the TVs inside our charter buses. For this game, the color guard/trumpet bus ("the Grumpet bus") watched "The Great Gatsby." I'm not sure if you're familiar with "The Great Gatsby," book or movie, but in the movie, Gatsby often uses the phrase "old sport." 

Now, there was a flag move I was having  trouble with at the time. I was often confused about the sequence and tended to put my flag up when the rest of the guard put theirs down.

As we were marching through the show, there on the field in front of thousands, right as the guard performed that part in of the routine, my guard captain turned to me, looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Put your flag down, old sport." 

I almost lost it. But it worked. My flag went down in the right place. 

The Time the Bus Died

Fun fact: I sleep deeply. In fact, it's fairly hard to wake me up sometimes. However, when the mellophone next to you is shaking you vigorously sometime during the night and saying, "Maggie. We have to go. The bus broke down and won't start. We have to move buses," that usually does the trick. 

I was really groggy as I lurched off the bus. All seven band buses were pulled over on the side of the road. I staggered after my seatmate as we journeyed one bus back. The interior was brightly lit as my seatmate gestured to a couple of empty spots. I collapsed into the window seat and pulled my blanket tightly around me and drifted off to sleep. Until I didn't. At one point I woke up and couldn't sleep, so I glared at the moon.

I digress. Luckily everyone lived happily ever after. Except the bus. I don't know what happened to it. I guess it's all right, somewhere out there in the wild blue yonder. 

Hump Day

Unlike my high school marching season, which ends in late October, marching season here at Baylor concludes with the bowl game (if the football team makes it that far) in late December or early January. Which means that as the semester is wrapping up, our practice field looks like a lifeless wasteland. And the band feels like a lifeless wasteland. Especially when it's cold. One frigid Wednesday, it was so cold that the color guard, who forgot to layer as much as we should have, all piled under one blanket on the side of the field.

As there was only a small blanket and 20 of us, there were a lot of heads and legs poking out of our little pile. Somehow we got away with the most minimal practice possible as we tried not to get hypothermia.

We tried. 

Catch! 
The thing about this particular event in the lives of the color guard is that I didn't actually see this happen, but got to experience the aftermath of tears of laughter streaking down faces.

There was a girl visiting the color guard for the Bear Band program. This is when high schoolers have the opportunity to join our band for a football game, eat with us, sit with us, and see what we do. After the game, a color guard member asked our visitor whether she wanted her Powerade bottle. The girl nodded. The color guardian then asked if she could throw it.

Evidently, the visitor missed that memo, because as she stepped forward to receive her bottle, the color guardian lobbed it at her, nailing her right in the face.

Oops. She lived, though. But I'm not sure if she's coming to audition with us in the spring. 

Never Again

Another story from last year.

Sometimes I just hate earrings. You have to keep up with them, always remember to wear them at the right time, and make sure they don't break. But when they do...Extra hassle. My earrings decided to be that pair, and not cooperate with me or my ears all season. Because they could.

And because they could, the back of one of the earrings chose the worst moment to break off: on the bus. On the way to an away game. But thanks to the Mary Poppins bag of one of my fellow color guardians, there was a hot glue gun and a safety pin available. Can you see where this is going yet?

The end of the story was the part where she had to brace my head as the bus rattled down the highway and jam the sharp part of the safety pin through the piercing in my ear.

Welcome to color guard. At least I got my tetanus shot before I came to college.

Behind the scenes of  ESPN's College Game Day. We're just as crazy as you think we are, if not more. 

Mini Tales

So here are a couple of stories that are a couple of sentences each. I still wanted to add them, and even though they aren't long, I gave them their own category. 

A Quick Snooze

The day of our first performance, I fell asleep on the floor of my captain's house. According to the rest of the guard, they watched me sleep for a while. How nice.

Canned
On our way to the stadium one afternoon, I made a passing comment about how I could fit into one of the nearby trash cans. Seconds later, I felt two strong arms wrap around my waist, as another color guardian tried to physically lift me into the trash can. I was having none of that, so I kicked my legs until she released me. Probably the closest I've been to actually being canned. 

Hope you enjoyed them! Not to worry, there are plenty more where those came from! With the bowl game coming up in a couple of weeks, I'll have some more stories to tell about my adventures with BUGWB.

Blogger's Note: Just a heads up: I'll be taking this coming Friday off. Because Christmas. And no internet. Hope you all have a very Merry Christmas! 

Thoughts of Home

Take a bus, take a train, go and hop an aeroplane,
Put the wife an' kiddies in the family car!
For the pleasure that you bring when you make that doorbell ring,
No trip could be too far!


Oh! There's no place like home for the holidays,
'Cause no matter how far away you roam,
If you wanna be happy in a million ways,
For the holidays you can't beat home sweet home!


I love that song so much. 

This time of year fills me with excitement. All my finals are complete, most of my packing is done, and tonight is my last night in the dorm for a while. 

I'm coming home tomorrow. 

But what is home? I've been asked that question so, so many times and I never know what answer to give? 

What home should I tell you about first? I've lived in so many places! My first home in Cleburne, Texas? Or how about my childhood homes in Kitakyushu and Higashi-Kurume? What about my adolescent home in Missouri, where I will be traveling to tomorrow? Maybe even the newest place I've come to call home, the green and gold campus of Baylor University? 

Do I even have a home? 

I don't know. 

But one thing I've learned through my nomadic life, is that home is not just where your rump rests (Lion King quote, anyone?), but it's where you feel welcomed and loved. Everyone around you wants you there with them, because they love you. 

Love is what makes a home a home. 

And I am more than ecstatic to spend my favorite holiday with my favorite people. Christmas is a time of giving and sharing love, through gifts, through time, through laughter and joy. 

I may have a slight "home crisis", but does that matter? Sometimes. 

But what's most important is that I get to love and be loved where I am and where I am going next. 

Time Lapse

Blogger's Note: No, I haven't died! I've just been really busy the past few days. Sorry about that. 

A few days ago, after a year, I finished watching all nine seasons of The Office on Netflix. I don't even know what to feel right now.

As the characters grew in the nine years that take place during the span of the show, I grew with them as I watched, although it was a shorter amount of time. 

Look at how much they've grown:

Me too: 

Let me assure you, I haven't gotten any less weird. 

It's funny how much can change in a year. Friendships, ideas, activities, beliefs, life. It's funny how much life can change in a year. How much you can achieve or lose. New adventures, new places, new memories. 

Thinking over this past year, I realize that I've done so much. There so many hellos: I went on my first cruise,  my first date, I got my first job, I finished my first year of college. But there were also so many good byes: I said farewell to one of my best friends as she entered the mission field for a year and a half in the western United States, I said farewell to my guinea pig Saeli as she died this fall, I've decided to set color guard aside for a year as I study abroad in London next year, I've said farewell to sanity, as this fall has been one of the hardest seasons I've ever lived. 

Life is hard. But I'm grateful for the breath that's been put into my lungs each morning for the past 365 days. The new year is coming in a few short weeks. 

I wonder how much will change in the next year? 

The One Time I Acquired Seven Boyfriends Over The Course of One Weekend

Sorry Mom and Dad. 


First of all, I see no problem with being forever alone.

Second of all...I will admit that the zombie was pretty rad.

But what was I doing so far down south? Well, one of the many perks to going to a rather large Christian university is that we have a four-day Easter break. Most college kids elected to head home and spend Easter with their families, but as I live 10-11 hours away, my sweet friend Emily decided to spirit me away down to San Antonio, her hometown, for the long weekend.

Flower wreaths for the upcoming Fiesta holiday! 

That doesn't explain the abundance of boyfriends. Honestly, I have no idea where that plot began.

It all started with a chance meeting of Emily's friend Jesus (pronounced HAY-soos) at the local movie theater.

And went downhill from there.

I was able to rack up at multiple "boyfriends" a day as Emily and I trekked around the city of San Antonio, visiting her old stomping grounds as well as more touristy areas downtown.

Besides the sudden influx of men in my life, I was thrilled to be able to re-experience San Antonio. I was a young elementary schooler the last time I visited, and there was so much I had forgotten about the beautiful city.

One highlight was the River Walk. As overcrowded as it is, it was one of the only places I really remembered, and I cried out with joy as I descended the stairs leading from the street above to the river.

It was still as beautiful as I remembered it.

Emily and I sightseeing from a bridge. 

Homemade root beer from Schilo's, a restaurant close by the River Walk!

Not to mention the Alamo. 

I also got to try my first real breakfast taco while I was there!

But on to the the real mystery! Who were these boyfriends? Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, here is the ultimate list...of my San Antonio man posse.

1. Jesus

It all began with a prank...

2. Cardboard Spidey

Emily's hashtag: "#spideycouple"

3. Decorative cowboy

This guy probably has to put up with so much.

4. Zombie

Classier than the Walking Dead. This one does impressions too. 

5. Ryan 

Ryan was such a good sport. He even gave me his CD!

6. Jailbird Joe

I don't associate with this one much.

7. Buc-ee

He just looks so...happy...

What's wrong with you, Maggie? That last one isn't even human! I know, I know. Quite the menagerie, they are. But going home with a college friend proved to be quite the adventure!

Especially when it came to my non-existent romantic life.


[Shout out to the Emily and family for being such gracious hosts and letting me crash in their house for the weekend!]

Every Man's Mouse

Disney, yes. Mickey, no.

A couple of weeks ago, I was re-watching a couple of movies from my childhood, "The Rescuers", followed by its sequel, "The Rescuers Down Under".

But what are the Rescuers? They're mice. Yep. The Rescue Aid Society is a council of mice that meet within the United Nations building to answer the call to help anyone who needs it. Especially when it comes to rescuing adorable kiddos from psycho adults.

Penny and Medusa from "The Rescuers"
You can totally tell that Medusa's a villain because she's holding a teddy bear hostage. 

Cody and McLeach from "The Rescuers Down Under"

Australia is all fun and games until you get captured by a poacher who wants to kill all of your animal friends. 

The protagonists for both movies are Bernard and his partner Miss Bianca, the Rescue Aid Society's representative from Hungary, voiced by Bob Newhart and Eva Gabor, respectively.

Bernard

Miss Bianca

While the intrepid Miss Bianca could probably have a short post of her own, this post is primarily about Bernard. 

Let me introduce you to this glorious mouse:

Bernard came from humble beginnings. He wasn't always an agent and the representative of the good ol' U.S. of A. In fact, he was the janitor for the Rescue Aid Society, doing his duties without complaint. That is, until Miss Bianca personally asks him to be her escort on her very first mission. 

Bernard is a gentleman. He was the one that suggested Miss Bianca have an escort in the first place. He holds her umbrella, carries her luggage, and above all, saves her life. Multiple times. He never complains. Not even once. 

Bernard believes he's average. A nobody. He's actually quite the opposite. Bernard is ready to step up and rescue those kids in peril, endangering his own life in the process. He sacrifices himself time after time for the benefit of others. When Miss Bianca is accidentally captured. Bernard tames a vicious wild pig and rides it throughout the night to find her.  

Bernard on his way to steal yo girl. 

Unless someone steals his own first! 

Watching these movies again made me realize that I absolutely love Bernard. And here's why. Because he's just like all of us. 

Bernard has no superpowers. He doesn't have money, or power, or fame. He never went to college. He's not a prodigy. He's just your everyday boy next door, with his own hopes, dreams, and fears. But he's willing to set those fears aside for those he loves and for those he's never met. Bernard strives to better himself every day, even though life gets in the way sometimes. He does the best he can with what he's been given. 

And, with the help of a cast of cute characters, always manages to stop the bad guy in the end. 

I think there's a little bit of this mouse in all of us. No, we aren't mice. But we do have potential. And we have been gifted with various gifts and talents. While we may not get caught up in death-defying action, we still are extraordinary, each in his or her own way. 

We've been created for different purposes, and like Bernard, we're often hesitant to embrace them. But once we do, who knows what kind of adventures we'll be swept into. 

Passionate

I was sitting on a couch in my discipleship group today. We were telling stories, chatting, and diving deep into the Word.

The question. What are you passionate about, Maggie? I rattled off my usual answers: color guard, travel, acting, photography...

When it hit me like cold water to the face.

Storytelling.

It felt right, somehow. Reading stories, writing my own. How much I enjoy listening to others tell about themselves. How I love getting into character and costume. How I like to travel to new places and capture the stories and memories I find there. How I listen. How each story I share reminds me of yet another.

It fit somehow, in the grand scheme of things.

I'm one step closer to discovering my purpose. And maybe this is it. Maybe this is the thing I was built and born for.

But to effectively share other stories, someday I will have to share my own. Every agonizing detail. Every night spent in tears. Every laugh, every smile. Every adventure.

Everything lost. Everything gained.

Friends, sharing who I truly am scares me the most.

The Baylor Spirit (Reflections From a Year Later)

That Good Old Baylor Line,
That Good Old Baylor Line. 

We'll march forever down the years
As long as stars shall shine  

        (Woosh!*)

We'll fling our green and gold afar
To light the ways of time.

And guide us as we onward go.
That Good Old Baylor Line


Homecoming week is huge here at Baylor University.

The entire campus is draped in green and gold during this jam-packed week as the university opens its arms to Bears old, current, and future.

Thursday night's tradition is something called Freshman Mass Meeting. And I just so happen to be watching it unfold right now as I blog from the second story of Moody library, gearing up to write my 8 page paper due the next morning.

I can't see them too closely from here, but the Class of 2018 is wearing their Line Jerseys, leaving Waco Hall's auditorium and walking down a path lined with candle-filled paper bags, the path that I walked to get to the library, except the candles will be lit, casting an ethereal glow for the short walk. Their own candles clutched solemnly in hand, they trek past the statue of The Immortal Ten, who are heroes here at Baylor.

I'm watching the small pinpricks of light flood into the field of Fountain Mall, arranging themselves in front of the stage that was set up there this afternoon where they will begin stacking wooden crates for the bonfire to happen tomorrow night. The green lights atop Pat Neff's tower wash the area in a familiar gleam.

Because Baylor is home. Not only is it a new home to these freshmen, it's a home to all who live here, work here, and ultimately some return here.

Tonight, more Baylor Bears join our legacy. Tonight they learn what it really means to be of Baylor. They are passed the torch to fling their own green and gold afar. They've been here for a couple of months now, but tonight is almost like an initiation of sorts.

I see more candles flooding the field. Each candle is held by a person with a different story. They all have different backgrounds, different lives, different interests, different wants, dreams, hopes, and futures, but they've all come together tonight in the spirit of Baylor to join their stories together under the banner of green and gold and the legacy of the Bears that have come before them.

Dang. I'm getting emotional just thinking about it. I'm a little jealous, really. But I'm glad I'm getting to watch them experience what I did last year. They're in for a wild ride here, but if they hang on tight, it'll be the best, most breathtaking ride they've ever ridden.

Me (far left) only a year ago.

I thank God every day for giving me the opportunity to come to Baylor University. And frankly, I don't see myself anywhere else than with my beloved fellow Bears.


None of the pictures are my own. Credits go to where they're due.

*The addition of the word "Woosh" is something that the Golden Wave Marching Band (or "BUGWB") does. It's one of our many traditions.

Tea Time

Her breath came out in gasps, leaves crunched under her feet, branches reached out menacingly and tore at her hair, her clothes, her skin.

But Renee didn’t care. She wasn’t going back. Never ever.

It was dark now, but Renee felt that she had been running forever. Grandmama said that all good little girls didn’t go into the forest at night. But Grandmama never had to watch her father and mother scream at each other. Grandmama didn’t have to hide from bullies at school. Grandmama was never lonely all the time.

Renee skidded to a stop. All the trees looked the same. She turned in a full circle. Which direction had she come from? She couldn’t remember.

The wind whispered through the trees, making Renee shiver. She started to walk. Maybe, she reasoned, if she picked a direction, she could make it somewhere. Anywhere but here.

She walked for what seemed like days, yet the sky never lightened. Renee shivered harder. She hoped there weren’t wild animals in the woods. A wolf could gobble a morsel like her down in one bite. 

After all, that’s how it happened in Little Red Riding Hood. Renee didn’t believe the tale was true, but now, surrounded by dark forest, she wasn’t so sure that a sneaky wolf wasn’t hiding behind the next tree.

But wait. What was that? Renee squinted. There was no mistake, she could see a small light, dead ahead, piercing the darkness. Without thinking, she headed toward it. With each step, the light grew stronger. Renee suddenly felt the desire for that light. She needed to touch it, to dance in it, to drink it all in. It had to be hers.

She darted around a rock, and suddenly, there was the source. A small stone house was nestled in a ring of trees. The light was coming out of the windows, spilling out into the night.

Renee timidly stepped up on the porch and knocked softly on the door. Who would open it, she wondered. A witch? They seemed like the usual foresty type.

The door swung open. “Come in!” a cheerful voice cried out from inside. Renee stepped into the house. At the far window was a young girl, not too many years older than her, grinning from her seat on the window sill. “I’ve been expecting you! One lump of sugar, or two?”

“Wh-what?” Renee could only stutter.

“In your tea, of course!”

Tea? She had never had tea before. “One, please.” Renee didn’t budge.

“You can come closer, you know! It’ll be a little harder for you to drink your tea from all the way over there!”

“Who are you?” 

“A friend.” She said gently. “Now hurry on over. Your tea’s getting cold.”

Renee seated herself across from the stranger, who set a teacup brimming with hot liquid in front of her.”

Renee lifted the cup to her lips and gingerly took a sip.

“How is it? The girl cocked her head. “I’ve been trying to perfect my recipe.”

Renee smiled over her teacup. “It’s already perfect.”

“Not quite.” The girl’s grin grew wider, “There’s always more I can improve.”

“Now,” said the girl, wrapping a blanket around Renee’s shoulders. “Tell me everything.”

“But I don’t know you.”

“But you do.” The girl poured more tea into Renee’s cup. And, oddly, Renee did felt she knew the girl, but a long time ago.

So she began at the beginning. She told the girl how ever since her beloved Grandmama had died of the fever, things had changed. Her parents had left the city for the countryside, forcing Renee to go to a new school, where she was bullied mercilessly. None of her city friends had written her.

“Perhaps they’ve forgotten.” Tears flowed freely down Renee’s cheeks. “I’m all alone.”

“No one’s alone, darling.” The girl wrapped Renee tightly into a hug. “Even when life tries to knock you down, friendship and love take you by the hand and lift you back up. It’s what makes the world go ‘round.”

Renee curled into the embrace. “And tea makes it better.” Her eyes were starting to get heavy.

The girl smiled. “Tea makes it ten times better.”

Renee’s eyelids drooped. As she dropped off to sleep, she heard a whisper, “Friendship can be found in the most forgotten places.”

Renee woke to sunlight bathing her face in warmth and light. She sat up, finding herself surrounded with wildflowers, in a peaceful meadow. Where was the cottage? Where was the girl who had treated her so kindly? Where was she?

Voices filtered through the trees? “Renee? Where are you? Renee?” They were familiar. Her parents. Renee sighed.

Something was different, though. They were calling together. Days ago, they couldn’t stand to be in the same house with each other, but now her parents were together, looking for her.

There were more voices that joined those of her parents. “Renee? We’ve missed you! Where are you?” How could this be possible? These were the voices of her friends from the city. Renee shook her head.

But the voices came closer, they were louder, clearer. They were real. It was a new day, a new day for everything. A new day to mend broken relationships, and a new day to just be, under the bright sun.

As Renee leapt to her feet in joy, her shoe clinked against something. She glanced down. At her feet, there was a porcelain teacup. Inside was a neatly folded piece of paper. Renee crouched and snatched the cream paper in her fingertips. The words inside were written in curly script:

Friendship is better with tea.

Blogger's note: I've missed writing fiction. Hope you enjoyed the read!

Binding Wounds Lovingly

[Blogger's Note: I feel like Friday's post was a bit of a cop-out. So here's something completely different. Enjoy. :) ]

If you told me to give you a list of things I missed the most, I promise you the beautiful country of Cambodia would be near the top.

Ah, Cambodia. 

Traveling to Cambodia in the summer of 2013, right before I came to Baylor, as a matter of fact, was one of the major turning points of my life. I could write a book about all I experienced and learned throughout that journey.

During my stay in a rural village in northern Cambodia, while one main task was to build a water tank to catch rainwater, another thing we did was promote hygiene. Believe it or not, the organization we were partnering with at the time just so happened to manufacture their own soap.

Grabbing the soap and a few medical supplies, mostly band-aids and rubbing alcohol, we left the school where we were staying and trekked down the dirt road into the village proper. Seeing a group of locals gathered underneath one of the stilted houses, we joined them in the shade as we explained what we were doing.

Someone was very happy to have his hair washed!

Healthcare in rural Cambodia is the worst. There are no doctors for miles, so villagers do not have access to the basic medical care and supplies that they need. Infection and lice are rampant. And that's just the mild part.


The women would bring their children for us to examine. Knowing almost nothing about doctoring people, and not trusting myself to do anything correctly, I planned to document the action using something I could use correctly. My camera.

One of the people I admire the most in the world. 

I'm actually in this picture, so I didn't document EVERYTHING. 

But plans change. Within a few minutes, a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a soft white pad were pressed into my hand. I protested, but the replies were firm. Taking a deep breath, I knelt in front of the small child in front of me, and gently gently smeared a soaked pad across her scraped up knees.

After administering the necessary band-aids, I moved from child to child, glancing at the various cuts and sores their mothers gestured to, assisting my other team members with their tasks.

I was scared when I first arrived in Cambodia. I wasn't great with people or construction. I ended up getting very sick early on. (You can read about that little adventure here.) I felt inadequate and unwanted. I, too, felt wounded. But not in the physical sense (unless you counted the nasty ant bites that covered my feet).

 Although I still am not great with people and construction (And let's face it, will I ever be?), I was able to contribute in small ways. With each brushstroke of cement paste as I clambered barefoot on the roof of the rain catcher, with each hand slapping game with the local kiddos, with each time I held their hands, with each time I applied a band-aid to a boo-boo, I showed love that I never though I had.

Alex and Mac, my sisters in crime. 

I felt compassion for things and people and a world greater than myself. And even though my team and I were there for a short time, we brought love to a dark place.

No action was insignificant. 

I still struggle with feelings of inadequacy daily. The past few months have been some of the hardest I've ever had to live through. But I'm determined to not let that stop me. Why? Because love binds wounds. Hugs, smiles, little notes of encouragement, time spent with friends in this wide world under the sun and stars. Love keeps us going, even when everything hurts.

And without it, we simply could not exist.