I look at my dad, my eyes blurry. He holds me and tells me he’ll see me at class on Monday. I try to laugh, but tears choke my throat. I don’t know what I’ll do without my daddy’s protection. I try not to think about it.
In true Stanfill family tradition, we exchange envelopes—their letters to me, and my letter and CD to them. I made a CD of songs that remind me of our life together, eighteen years of memories packed into one tiny disc. “Home” by Michael Bublé is the first song. My mom will later tell me that when the song came on, they pulled over and held each other as they cried. I also included Michelle Branch’s “Goodbye To You,” a song from the CD my dad and I listened to on the way to father-daughter camp my freshman year of high school, when my great rebellion was just starting. Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” is on there because when I was ten, my dad told me he was about to play the greatest song ever written; I took it literally and was sorely disappointed, but it still made it. “In My Daughter’s Eyes” by Martina McBride is also on there. My mom and I deemed it our song when it first came out; she said it reminded her of how alive I was as a child.
♥
The day I left for college was one of those days when you put all your issues aside and love each other despite yesterday and the day before. I was hoping I’d be stronger on this day, that I wouldn’t feel so connected to my parents, but you can’t erase your childhood. More important, you can’t shake unconditional love.
The next few days passed in a blur. I was more homesick than I thought I would be. Even so, I thrived, surrounded by so many new people. I loved making new friends. We quickly bonded with our suitemates when we all shared a bottle of wine, and we even met some girls from Atlanta down the hall. I was ecstatic to start sorority rush. Sororities are a big thing in the South, and where you got in seemed to determine your social status in college. My mom was in a sorority, my friends were all rushing, and I wanted affirmation that I fit in somewhere on this giant college campus. It never occurred to me that joining a sorority might be a life-changing event.
Rush On
We met our Pi Chi groups a few days before rush, and I found girls I loved. Our leader reminded me of a maternal friend I had back home. I was so excited to start over, a fresh start at a new school in a new sorority.
Day one was filled with parties, and by the end, I was so exhausted that I could barely stand. I’d made the same conversation at least ten times with a few five-minute breaks in between. I judged the sororities based on what most eighteen-year-old girls probably judge other girls on—clothes, chapter rooms, looks, and (lastly) personality. I picked a few sororities I liked, and my roommate and I went to bed around nine.
The next day was much the same but with one big change at the end—cuts were made that night. We all sat in a big line by last name; since I was in the S group, I was at the end. The girls in my group tried to talk, but we were so tired and nervous we ended up sitting in silence. I watched as some girls walked away all smiles and others filed out in tears, talking on their cell phones. I wasn’t worried. I had my list of my top twelve between my sweaty palms, and I reviewed it every so often to make sure I still remembered.
Finally our group made it up to the computers. I sat in front of my computer screen and clicked on my name. I looked at the screen in shock. Only eight sororities had invited me back. Most of my friends had twelve or thirteen invite them back, so eight felt like a personal knock. Eight out of sixteen—only half—want me was all I kept thinking. Tears filled my eyes and threatened to spill over. I knew I had to accept all of the invitations; I didn’t have a choice. I felt the too-familiar “the world is crashing down around me” feeling, and I tried to stay strong. More rejection. I didn’t understand; what had I done to deserve this?
It was twelve o’clock in Atlanta, and after I left the computer, I called my mom in tears. “I only got invited back by eight,” I sobbed into the phone.
I was inconsolable. This was a life-and-death situation. If I didn’t get into a good sorority, I wouldn’t go to the good parties and I wouldn’t have the pretty friends. I tried to explain this to my mom, and she did her best to calm me down, but I was so hurt. Girls had met me and said that they couldn’t see themselves being friends with me. I started to question everything I knew about myself. It was like being fourteen all over again, the pain of wanting so desperately to be a part of the popular crowd. I had built my life around fitting in, and now, my first week at a new college, I was already getting rejected. I thought I was good with people; maybe not. I thought I was pretty; maybe not. I thought I’d fit in on this campus; maybe not. My new friends did the best they could to console me, but they hadn’t had the same situation; they weren’t rejected by half of the sixteen sororities. Eventually, I consoled myself. There were still two sororities on my list that I liked, and I told myself as long as I could have those two on the last day, I’d be okay.
The next few days dragged on with a slow anticipation. I just wanted to get to the end. My emotions were fried, my heart was broken, and I was a nervous wreck. A couple of friends from my high school were going through rush with me, and we started comparing our favorites. They all loved Zeta, which a few of the older girls from our high school loved, and I was torn between Pi Phi and Zeta. I knew all my friends would be in Zeta and there’d be a lot of familiar faces, but this tiny voice kept whispering that I could start over, I could be different.
Somehow we reached the end, preference day, and I had two I liked, but in my head I’d already picked my favorite. I told myself that even if I didn’t get it, I’d still end up in one I liked.
At the end of preference day, all one thousand girls in black dresses were herded like cattle down to the room where we’d list our preferences. I walked with one of my newfound friends, and we whispered about our favorites. She wanted Alpha Chi, and I was convinced I could find a place at Pi Phi.
I filled out my preference card in the order of my favorites, turned it in, and breathed a sigh of relief. I put it in the hands of the God I wasn’t sure I believed in and figured His guess was as good as mine.
We had one final dinner with our rush group that had dwindled from sixteen girls to ten, and we laughed about the week. We all exchanged funny stories, and for a moment we were all friends, not yet divided by the Greek letters we wore.
My parents arrived early the next morning, and even though I’d seen them only a week before, it felt like much more time had passed. I felt like I’d gone through a lifetime of emotions in one week. They took me out to lunch, and I could barely eat, I was so nervous to get my bid. After lunch, we stood on the president’s lawn and waited for the truck full of bids to come up the driveway. Girls were running around laughing, so happy to have all made it to this day. The truck pulled up honking, and we all got with our rush groups from the week. Our Pi Chi (group leader) made her way down the line, handing out our bids in alphabetical order. On the count of three we all opened them together in one big sorority-girl cheer. I’d gotten my first pick; I was a Pi Phi. I looked around for the other girls from home, and I watched as they all went running to the opposite side; they’d all gone Zeta.
I walked to the chapter room by myself and couldn’t help but wonder if this was a mistake; I didn’t know a single person in my new sorority. I told myself that this was what I had wanted, but now that it was right in front of me, I didn’t know if it was. I wanted the familiarity of my old friends; I wanted to be back at home, not in a tiny dorm room. Instead, I was sitting in my new home surrounded by unfamiliar faces. This weird feeling wouldn’t last long, though.
CHAPTER 9
A NEW SONG
MY FRESHMAN YEAR of college was a year of learning. I wanted to be different, but I didn’t know how to get there. So college started the way high school ended: I attended parties with my sorority sisters and got drunk often. I enjoyed the freshman life. I made friends quickly. They were like me, but they had a Christian twist, and we formed a tight-knit group. Most of my new friends w
ere religious, and they went to church on Sunday. They didn’t smoke marijuana and rarely dropped the f-bomb. It was a lifestyle I wasn’t used to.
After a few months of this, I met a new boy to call my own, but I hadn’t totally left my old ways. Unfortunately, the first time I met his parents was when they caught us making out. They’d come to visit, and I was too drunk to go home, so I stayed at his house. It was embarrassing to say the least, but we kept dating. He came from a Christian home like I did but was one year older and was looking for a change from the way he’d been brought up. We’d spend hours talking about “spiritual things,” and my mom screamed with joy when I told her we’d gone to church. I hadn’t told her that I’d spent the night at his house before church. We didn’t have sex, because we’d both been there and knew the emotional pain it caused, so we made the decision together to see if we could have a good relationship without sex.
To my shock, even though I wanted to have sex, I found we could have a deep emotional connection without it. I realized I didn’t need sex to define a relationship. In fact, the relationship was much easier without sex. When we broke up, I cried for a few days, but the pain wasn’t the same. We weren’t connected physically like the relationships where I’d had sex, so I could move on without feeling like part of my heart had been ripped out.
It slowly became clear that it wasn’t my family that had caused pain in my past; it was the decisions I’d been making. Here I was, 150 miles from my parents and finally free, and I still felt empty and alone. I still felt like my life was missing something. In a new place where no one knew my past, I was keenly aware that I could continue the life I’d had in high school or I could try something new. I remembered how unhappy and disgusted with myself I was in high school, so I opted for something different. Our sorority had a Bible study for the pledges, and I decided to go with one of my girlfriends who also had a Christian background. I remember telling my mom on the phone that I was joining my sorority’s Bible study, and her response was perfect: “Oh my gosh, Tindell, tell me to sit down before you tell me stuff like that. I almost passed out.”
You see, I wasn’t planning on making big changes, just enough to round out the edges, clean up my reputation a little bit, and avoid reliving the heartache. My commitment was still halfhearted, and I spent the fall semester doing most of the same things but with a new emptiness. I’d go home from parties and be bored with the drinking. I completely stopped smoking and only drank socially. Gone were the days when I’d drink enough to pass out, and I realized you can get a lot done on Saturday and Sunday when you’re not hungover. Meanwhile, my mom and I were building a real relationship. She actually liked the new guy I was dating and loved hearing about our weekly church attendance. My brothers were, as always, rooting for me. They’d call to check on me, to see how I was adjusting, and I was shocked when I realized how much I was beginning to depend on them. My dad and I had remained the closest through it all, and he encouraged me to move forward in life. Don’t get me wrong—I hadn’t made any huge changes yet; I was still partying and drinking with all my sorority sisters, but suddenly I realized my future was right in front of me and I had decisions to make. I knew that one day I wanted to be married, but the kind of guy I wanted to marry wouldn’t marry the girl I was. I realized I wanted to be respected and trusted. I realized that I really wanted more in life.
My mom’s timing was perfect when she told me that my brother was playing at a Christian conference in Nashville over Christmas break. Because I was open to change and searching, I decided to go. It was a big deal and an honor that he was playing, and I wanted to show him how proud I was of him. I wasn’t expecting for it to change my life, but I did go in with an open mind, something I hadn’t had in years. I went in knowing I was unhappy and wondering if there was something better. In other words, I gave God a tiny space to move in, and He blew it apart.
While I was there, I heard Beth Moore talk about the pit of sin and how God could lift us out of it, and I knew she was talking to me. When my brother came onstage and sang “Jesus Paid It All,” I fell to my knees and prayed He would wash my stains away. It was a glorious moment. I felt relief for the first time in years, and I knew change had to happen in my life. There was no doubt it would be hard, but I didn’t care. I wanted healing. I wanted relief from the gut-wrenching pain I was bringing on myself. I wanted God to place my feet on solid ground. I begged for forgiveness for my long list of sins, and I was washed clean as my brother sang a new song over my life, the same song I so desperately wanted to believe all those years ago. “Jesus paid it all; all to him I owe. . . .”
That day, my own sound track started anew. God replaced the depressing, painful tracks with songs of grace, and I smiled genuinely for the first time in what felt like years.
God didn’t care about my yesterdays. In that moment, He washed away all my pain, and I became a new person. At the end of the service I ran up to my parents, and in one tearful apology, we put our family back together. I called Kristian and his wife, and they met me at a coffee shop. I told them God had changed me, and I was sorry for all the hurt. They hugged me and told me it was all forgotten. I’d spent years trying to destroy family bonds that I realized now could never be broken.
I wish I could say that I walked away and my life changed just like that! But just because you love God doesn’t mean all your sinful desires will fade away. I had to unlearn the things I’d taught myself for the past four years. I had to be obedient when I didn’t feel like it, and I had to learn that what my heart wanted wasn’t always what was best.
I still had the same needs, but now I had to find something lasting with which to fulfill them. Sleeping around seemed like a bad idea; drinking until I passed out didn’t look all that appealing; and my friendships felt very surface level. I knew I had to make changes, but I was lost in this new life. Most of my friends were still living the same life as before, but I knew I couldn’t. I’d reconnected with my family, but they were a hundred miles away.
So I did the only thing I knew to do at the time. I prayed. I prayed God would use me to help girls who had a similar story to mine. I prayed God would send me friends to help me, and I prayed He would lead me. I got more involved in a Bible study and started attending a campus ministry, small steps back to real life. I took a leadership position in my sorority where I was in charge of “standards,” which basically meant I was everyone’s mom. Since I was one of the few girls who didn’t drink, I was appointed to mother all the girls who did. If the girls didn’t follow the rules, I was the one enforcing the punishment. In a sorority of two hundred girls known for its parties, I had my work cut out for me. Every time I walked into a party, beer bottles were lowered, and girls untangled themselves from whichever fraternity boys they’d found. My mom would laugh when I complained that the girls just couldn’t behave. She shook her head and said, “Oh, how the times have changed.” I had to laugh sometimes too; God really does have a sense of humor. He decided to place me in charge of the rules when months earlier I was hell bent on breaking them.
The hardest part about coming back to Christ was learning that He wanted me to have a relationship with Him, not just follow a set of rules. The only thing I knew about following Christ was that there was a set of rules Christians were supposed to follow. The rules were not what I needed, though. I needed to change my lifestyle, but I needed a reason to change my lifestyle. I needed a better story to be written in my life, and I wasn’t going to do this on my own. But since I was kind of immature in this stage of my return to faith, I became obsessed with rules. Even though all my old friends knew my past and liked me better when I wasn’t a Christian, I kept going forward. When I stopped drinking, I lost most of my friends, and the only thing to comfort me at night were the rules I clung to so tightly.
I did my best to show mercy and grace, but because I had a hard time separating the relationship aspect of Christianity from the rules, I was more of a dictator than an ambassador of grace. I shou
ld have been more understanding about what my sorority sisters were going through; I’d gone through the same thing months earlier. I could have proven my point without being a tyrant, but I didn’t know how to do that. See, God didn’t care about the rules. What He really cared about was that I loved those girls. All I really needed to do was live a different life from the crowd, but that was beyond radical for me. I didn’t know how to distinguish being different from being a dictator. (I think that’s something a lot of Christians struggle with!) And because I was so new to this side of authority, I didn’t understand that God cares more about love than anything else. The rules are in place to help us, but they’re not what He’s about. I had a great opportunity to show my sorority sisters what was really important in life. I had a chance to show them how much God loves them, but instead I drank in my power and tightened the rules.
God has never won people over with dos and don’ts; He wins them over with His compassion and love. And then, after He wins their hearts, He guides them to a more fulfilling life. The rules are nothing; the relationship is everything.
When I took baby steps toward God, I learned I didn’t want to live the life I had been living. I wanted to be different. It was like a light clicked on in the darkness, and I could finally see what I had really been doing to myself. I could see I wasn’t happy. Since I’d lost most of my old friends for my new life, I was lonely and begging God for new friendships. As always, He listened and came through.
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