by Cheyenne Scott-Nelson
I grew up in a church building with high-arch, door-sized windows to my left. I grew up in a long church corridor, with stain glass windows, an organ, and a doxology filled with an abundance of "hallelujahs." Where I was told that God was like the dogs He made—despite the negative connotations of such a sentiment. I grew up as part of a church where they thought we were new every week—because I guess we were.
I grew up down the street from my mother's school and mine. A place I didn't have a second thought about going to until I left, so close to the end. Where, I learned math and hated reading. There, I never learned how to sort out conflicts, but was reprimanded for my ignorance of how to do so. Never learned how to examine a belief, but to take it for granted. After all, who ever taught me about disagreement—save my divorced parents who both insisted that the other was lying?
I grew up without siblings. But with a grandfather. One who left coffee mug stains on my dollhouse, and ate peanut butter on wheat toast in his blue plaid bathrobe. He played with me whenever we liked, because he lived across the hall. He always smiled. He was a man who could give sermons, perform weddings, write my physics textbook, and teach a class on something he was learning himself, just because He wanted to. He was also a man who would run over the mailbox more than once, and who couldn’t cook hardly anything but lasagna (there may have been an oil fire…).
I grew up in a window seat. Overlooking farmland in the heat, wind, and cold of the years. Living for days in another land. A state I called a city. A make-shift home I never knew I'd love. A region I never believed I would consider more a home than anywhere. Where we walked into a church with no organ and lots of lights. They still think I'm new though I’ve been going for years. As I walk in wearing a teenager's skin and a grown-up's smile. A church where I slept on long rows of chairs with the sibling I never realized I had until she was packing up for college the same way that I find myself packing up now: with too many boxes and a long road trip on the horizon.
Cheyenne (Gordon College '22) is studying Linguistics and International Affairs. Next year she has the opportunity to be a Resident Advisor. She grew up in California but now calls Missouri home. She is an avid traveller, poet, language enthusiast, and supporter of world missions and community service."