Personal Narrative: Van Meter

I first read Heidi Neumark’s memoir, Breathing Space: A Spiritual Journey in the South Bronx, the summer before entering seminary. I was in my early twenties, having just served for two years as a campus ministry at the University of Pittsburgh. Attending seminary so that I could eventually work for a religious non-profit. That summer I had no intention of becoming a pastor.

The lessons I’ve received from transitioning through the church as a child, youth, and adult member have taught me a number of lessons; patience, reverence, and empathy are all traits I’ve strengthened, and they have undoubtably helped me through my high school career. Taught how to ask thoughtful questions, I’m unashamed of my curiosity. Our faith is not always one of direct answers— even our most devoted

I met with Carman Mitchell to have an interview regarding their non-profit company and to fill out paperwork she needed for the company. Also, she gave me an orientation and training. The company is located in the city of Centerline and they rent a spot in a Catholic Church building that is quite old. The church used to be called St. Clement Catholic Church and was in service from 1854 until 2007. Coincidently, I remember attending this church with my grandmother as a child for Christmas Eve mass. As of June 30, 2012, the church is named St. Mary, Our Lady Queen of Families. Moreover, I did not get to see the whole inside of the space they are occupying in the building. I observed the reception type area and then a hallway that had various rooms. Carman took me into a room which was her office and it had an older computer, tables, old carpeting, and filing cabinets. There was sufficient work space which was nice.

I found out through my daughter that David Williams passed yesterday, August 29th from stage four liver cancer. I am sad.

Mr. Miller, my seventh grade homeroom teacher, “strongly encouraged” us to bring treats to class every Friday. He led us to believe that sharing cheap, processed foods laced with exorbitant amounts of refined sugar and saturated fats was the way to make friends. It was, however, quite obvious to a bunch of twelve and thirteen year olds that Miller was more concerned with maintaining his lifelong friendship with Little Debbie than he was with helping us get to know one another. A man whose license plate read “Ursa Major,” was more than just a fan of bears—he seemed to be the “Great Bear” himself. Standing about 6’2”, probably weighing in at more than 300 pounds, with a short, yet scruffy brown beard and long pointed snout, this lazy beast

I never thought I would be labeled an outsider, a misfit even. As I trudged my way through the halls of my small town high school, I would endure the gazing pairs of eyes, that belonged to my peers, followed by whispering and often times some laughter. I always used zone out during those repetitive speeches and commercials about the effects of gossiping and rumors; never did I imagine that one day I would be on the receiving end of of the everyday potshot. Growing up I was always the center of attention, the one everyone yearned to be friends with, never was I the antisocial child in the corner with nowhere to turn… not until high school. They say high school changes you. They say high school accounts for some of the greatest years of

At some point of our lives, we have all felt that feeling of what to do next, and mine would have to be the time I had to move from different cities. I was born and raised in McAllen, Texas. Throughout the years I was able to create and cherish many memories. Everyone around the neighborhood knew me as the shy, sweet, and kind Emily. My life was made in the valley until I got the announcement from my parents that we were moving to a new city named “Laredo.” At that moment my world had paused, so many questions were running through my head. What am I going to do? Where will I live? , and how will I adapt to this new town? So many mixed emotions were created, but I tried to hide them.

I’ve always been an outsider, it’s been hard for me to build friendships and relationships. Not too long ago, there I sat in the corner of the room in the way back, trying to hide from the world, and be myself. I didn’t really want to get involved with anything or anyone. I was afraid to open up, talk to others, maybe because I was afraid to get rejected. Until, I met the best people I could ever meet, my best friends Marisa Mendoza, Jessica Contreras and Deseray Reyes, the ones who up to this day have sticked by my side, at my best, and worst moments. They have all been a big part of my life, I can enjoy every minute I spend with them. For me, they aren’t only my friends they are like my sisters.

If someone says “transformer” I light up with excitement and joy. When I hear this word, I think of Autobots, Decepticons, awesome franchise, badass cars and other machinery, and more. My friend Caleb would probably think, “crappy movie, crappy director, crappy actors, and crappy franchise”. Others might think of electricity. Whenever I bring this franchise up with Caleb One co, it starts basically are only disagreement. He believes that they are all terrible while I am trying to defend each of the four movies and soon to be five. I always ask him, “how would make a movie about giant cars, trucks, military vehicles, and anything that runs on electricity any better?” I never get an actual answer because he says that he would not make these movies. I find it funny how we enjoy superheroes, Star Wars, him more than me however, and similar political beliefs, but we can’t get along with this franchise. Michael Bay and Paramount Pictures are making a new Transformers called Transformers: The Last Knight, and I told him in October/November that the new trailer was released, but all he could say was “I don’t care.” I

After that, we, along with the other church group that came from Wisconsin, stood in a circle, praying for guidance and wisdom as we would meet the children of this neighborhoods. I was old enough to understand what they meant while the Pastor was praying, but I’ve never experienced people of poverty in my life, excluding occasional the homeless person in the city. I was nervous; I didn’t know what to expect, what to do, what to say. Everyone went into vans to go to the church that would be provided for us to host our Bible day camp.

Moving, although natural, is not easy to most people. How many things are involved when you have to leave your school and friends behind to go to a place totally unfamiliar where anything could go wrong? For me, more than I could count since my family decided to move four thousands miles away.

I wake up to a red blaring light haunting my face. As I start to regain my vision, I see a contraption of some-sort, wires, buttons and the salience of the contraption, the display. The display is made of red digital lights and a steel frame. A stale 60 is written on the display. I look around the room and it's an eerie white colour, it's empty and bleak. I assume it's a white void, It leads to nowhere as the door must be seamlessly integrated into the wall. Then on the corner of my eye, I see a body. I assume it's a female as it's long silky blonde hair fills a fourth of the room. She's wearing a puffy grey jumper and black jeans with strands of fabric hanging out. From my angle, she looks dead, but I want to inspect her body. I creep towards it, realising this floor doesn't creak like home. I proceed cautiously. As I

In life, we are given a lot of different surprising opportunities, and Sunday the 12th, I had the chance to attend T.D Jakes sermon. A well-known preacher and actor in the United States at his main ministry in West Kiest Boulevard Dallas, Texas From 9am to 11:30am. This experience, by far was one of the most interesting ones for me because I always saw this preacher on T.V both preaching and in the movies. Being around a different culture and settings, was very much different compare to the country I’m from, we tend to do things different when it comes to religion and especially the size of the congregation was triple times compare to the ones I am accustom too.

The first day of the new semester had Mike Stevenson in quite a good mood. It was a welcome change for the older tenured professor; who, at 52, would have been the envy of many other men his age. He had a great job, a full head of hair, and was liked by his colleagues and students. However, due to his messy separation and impending divorce to another professor at the school, his state of mind could have been described as 'irritable' at best. Though even with the messy personal situation going on, he didn't fail to be at his desk before the sun even rose, preparing his lecture notes for one of his favorite classes. His traditional three cups of coffee had been brewed, and his charcoal grey sport coat, donned over a snug fitting navy shirt and

Lying in bed after a sleepless night, I had to find my inner strength and courage to overcome the sadness that would surely plague this day. What once belonged to him, and still holding the distinct scent of his cologne, I took the freshly pressed suit from the closet and drove to the church in a fog. It was a day that I had wished would never come. Holding the paper tight in my hand, I could feel my palms getting sweaty and my pulse starting to race. A still silence flowed through the room as I stepped up to the podium and took a minute to glance at all the somber people whose lives he touched. It was time to say goodbye to grandpa. Holding back tears and with my voice cracking, I started to read aloud the eulogy I had written last night: