The crazy college kids who attend Franciscan University Gaming Campus have deemed it tradition to jump into “the creek”. There is, located across the street from the Kartause, what many have found to be a perfect spot for jumping; the creek pours into a hole that is around seven feet deep, and then continues onward. Students jump from tree stumps, rocks, and even thorn bushes. Many plunge in fully clothed. However, no matter the time or circumstance, countless agree that any time is good creek-jumpin’ time.
I’ve done it. I—Leanna Marie Praetzel, age: 20, favorite
color: teal—have jumped in the creek. And yes, my beloved friends, I live to
tell the tale. I jumped in “cold turkey” the first time (from the top), and a
cold turkey I was indeed! Immediately after I came up, I could not respond to
my friends asking if I was okay because of the pure, bitter shock. But, never
fear, Mother dear! After a few seconds of air-gulping, I was just fine.
(Although, I am convinced that a little old Austrian man makes a daily trek to
the jumping spot and shovels in bucketfuls of ice while no one is looking,
chuckling to himself all the while. It’s that cold!)
The second time I went in the creek was actually to soak my
foot from an injury (not jumping-related, might I add). Little did I know my
phone would go “gently down the stream”… although it was more like “swiftly”,
and it wasn’t a dream. That was fun.
I went with a bunch of friends one fine evening my third
time around, a few of which had not yet made the initial jump. I teased them as
they stopped and considered carefully for quite some time before they, too, took
the leap. But then I began to wonder and, as always, question myself… Did I put
any thought whatsoever into my first jump into the creek? Or was I jumping in
because everyone else was? And what was that saying my dad used to tell me? I
think it had to do with friends and a cliff…
Then, as I walked my chilled self toward the dark outline of
the Kartause, my hair dripping along the faintly lit sidewalk, the analogy hit
me. Have I been partaking in my faith based upon my own thoughts and decisions?
Or have I been mindlessly playing “monkey-see, monkey-do”? I understand that
comparing a feeble creek jump to the monumental decision of participating in
Catholicism is a bit rough… but it really got me thinking. Of course it took me
but a few moments to reassure myself that I was indeed deeply in love with the
Catholic faith, and living it by my own choice. But I have since then been
making sure that I am whole-heartedly partaking in all I do, whether I am
praying, singing, or just plain living.
I have also decided that I really do love jumping in the
creek; there is something strange about it that is both thrilling and relaxing.
It’s hard to explain. But if you come out to the Kartause someday, and decide
to take the plunge, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Just be sure to watch out for slugs!
Well that’s it for now. Stay tuned for some Salzburg
stories! Until next time… Tschus!
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