If I Paid For My Friends, I Didn't Pay Nearly Enough.

With recruitment just around the corner (where does the time go?), it's that time of year for the skeptics to come around, tongues blazing, to make sure everyone knows that joining a sorority is absolutely the worst thing you could ever do.  This is for a few reasons, the most popular of which is:

You're paying for your friends.

So, today, being a week away from reuniting with some the best young women I've ever met, I feel inclined to clarify a few things.

1. Dues cover the cost of functions, meal plans, housing and other resources meant to help YOU.

Sure, functions aren't "necessary," but what's wrong with wanting to get dressed up with your best friends and have a night of fun?  That's not something that's unique to Greek life.  Meal plans and having a place to live, study or just hang out isn't unique to Greeks either.  As far as resources, many Greek organizations employ people from the University to support their members academically.  And guess what?  The all-Greek GPA is consistently higher than the non-Greek GPA!

2. You don't need to join a sorority to make friends.

This is 100% true, and that's why you don't join a sorority just to make friends.  However, at a school of about 30,000 people, it's nice to have an outlet to meet new people.  Sororities make a big school feel much smaller, and they give individuals a platform to shine in ways that wouldn't necessarily be possible on a larger scale (like the entire University).  That being said, sororities DO seek people out based on their values.  So although you can find friends anywhere, in a sorority you are given an opportunity to form deeper friendships based on values.

3. Sororities DO make a positive impact on the entire community.
(This is my favorite one).

Like I said, this is my favorite one, and that's because the idea that all we care about is ourselves is just blatantly wrong.  At least here at the Alpha Lambda chapter it is.  Although it doesn't all come down to philanthropy, it's the most important thing to us, so it's all I'll mention here.  I'm by no means saying that non-Greeks aren't philanthropic or don't care about helping others.  There's tons of people who are philanthropic on their own.  And that rocks.  Seriously.

But for us, our sorority gives us an outlet to support causes we truly believe in.  Here at Tri Delta, it's St. Jude.  On our own, we couldn't pull off events that bring hundreds of people together to support St. Jude or do a letter-writing campaign that raised almost $100,000.

Every year since I've joined this incredible organization, our chapter has raised over $100,000 for the kids.  Many of us have even spent weekends driving the 10+ hour drive to Memphis, TN, to see our hard work firsthand on the walls of the hospital and in the eyes of the patients we serve.  And don't just take it from me--just last week, Tri Delta was named the St. Jude Partner of the Year for our newest commitment to fund an entire housing facility of the patients and their families.  Out of all the hundreds of organizations that help St. Jude, they thought it best to recognize us.  That is truly something special.

So, all in all, I just want to say that joining Tri Delta has been one of the best decisions I've ever made.  It's given me friendships and opportunities I couldn't have imagined as a wide-eyed high school senior without a clue.

Now, as a rising college senior graduating in December and freaking out about living in the "real world" miles away from the girls who have made me a stronger, more competent and complex woman than I used to be, I can confidently tell you one thing:

If I paid for these friends, I didn't pay nearly enough.

These girls became my second family after the summer my real family fell apart.  Two in particular went from complete strangers to my best friends all in one night when I broke down around a campfire.  I don't think I've ever told them quite how much that meant to me.  So, to them: thank you. I love you.

If Greek life still isn't for you, that's fine--this post isn't meant for you.  This post is meant for those of us who were told, wrongly, what it meant to be a "sorority girl."  I was one rash decision away from never even giving sorority life a chance, all because of what I'd "heard."

I write this for you today to personally urge you not to let anyone make your decisions for you.  Plus, proving people wrong is kind of fun, isn't it? :)

Delta love and all of mine,

Kellie

Summer Series: Delaney Horel in Uganda

During the summertime (or any other time, really), there is absolutely no shame in taking time for ourselves.  To relax on the beach.  To kickstart our career path.  To enjoy time with old friends.  Still, some people constantly seek to serve others regardless of the time of year.  Delaney Horel is one of those people (YGG).  Delaney is a rising senior math major pursuing a career as a teacher.  She spent her summer serving at a school in Uganda, a dream that anyone who knows her heard her talk endlessly about (and when you read this post, you'll understand why).  Yet as she recounts this life-changing trip, she considers herself more of a learner than a teacher.  For those of us who know Delaney, we know that she probably had a much greater impact on the children than she will ever admit.  Her outlook on this trip and on life is uncommon and refreshing.  We can't wait to have you back, Delaney!

"About a 2-hour boat ride from the mainland of Uganda there is an island known as Lingira.  It is approximately five miles in circumference and home to about 3,000 people—nearly all of who live crowded villages composed of small, grass-thatched, mud huts. The economy of Lingira is built on the fishing industry and the average working man makes about $2 per day. Furthermore, there is no electricity, running water, or sanitation systems on the island.  This place was my home for the summer.

A typical day on the island went something like this: I woke up around 7:30 a.m., ate breakfast, "took tea" (a Ugandan habit and phrase I picked up), and went about doing my daily chore of sweeping. Eventually, I walked to Lingira Living Hope Secondary School. (Yes, amazingly enough there is a secondary school on the island. There is a primary school as well.)  Here, I observed class and worked with the math teacher to develop his methods.  When exams came around, I worked with students on review and preparation. Wednesday evenings, I attended fellowship in Katonga village. Saturdays, I attended the female students' Bible study at school. Sundays, I attended service at Kyoya Deliverance church.  During my free time I read and explored. Some days, I set up my hammock in a tree and rested while I listened to the sound of Lake Victoria in the background.  Other days, I walked over to the school to watch football (soccer) and hang out with students. Island life was simple. And I loved that about it.

Living in a new place meant experiencing new things. And in Uganda, I welcomed every opportunity to do something for the first time. Like eat the eye of a fish (a beloved Ugandan delicacy). Or bathe from a basin (no running water remember?). Or ride on a boda boda (the fastest, most fun, and possibly most unsafe, way to move around mainland). Or attend a Ugandan wedding (during which not just one, but four couples were united) whilst wearing a traditional gomesi (a gown which is made of many yards of fabric and somehow not so comfortable).  To these experiences and many others like them, I owe my appreciation: they enabled me to immerse myself in the Ugandan culture and become as Ugandan as I possibly could. Sometimes (most times) they also put me outside of my comfort zone, forcing me to evaluate my limits and challenging me to change them.

Indeed, I have many stories to tell about my summer on Lingira. Yet the memories that I made are not as important to me as the lessons that I learned.

All the while I went to Uganda to serve and instead I was served.  You see, Ugandan culture is centered around community and making people feel "most welcome" (another native phrase I picked up).  Hence, apart from my own initial hesitations, getting to know everyone around me was not very difficult and I am incredibly thankful for the ways they built me up while doing so: the students of the school spoiled me with their endearing kindness and appreciation, the people of the island blessed me with their genuine optimism and joy. Despite their deprived living conditions, their spirit is thriving. The islanders have a hope that gives them life and there is nothing of this world that could ignite the light that radiates from them all.

So, even though…
I did not take a hot shower.
I did not have air conditioning.
I did not wear anything that hit above my knee.
I did not wear make-up.
I did not style my hair.
I did not drive a car.
I did not have constant Internet access.
I did not send a single text message.
And I did not eat Chipotle or Chick-Fil-A.
…All summer long, I was completely content. Because what I did instead was far more satisfying.  Living on Lingira taught me that true fulfillment is not found in material possessions and comforts, it is found in relationships—in spending time with people who love you and encourage you with authenticity and compassion.

And I am eternally grateful for the gift of a sisterhood that does so. Steadfastly.

DL,
Delaney"