Why I (still) Love DZT

When Jenn asked me to write this post over a month ago, I seriously doubt she expected me to procrastinate for as long as I have. The reason behind my procrastination is simple. Okay, not really simples as it involves a long list of all that has happened in the last month to pull my attention away from this assignment, but it also includes this simple fact: I couldn't figure out what I wanted to say.

The idea of writing a blog post about Delta Zeta Tau and what my time in that clubs means to me today was originally very attractive. I loved my time at Lee, and being a member of DZT was the best part of it. I was active in DZT from the spring semester of 1995 until I graduated in 1998. I held several offices and made every effort to be involved in any way I could. However, when I sat down and attempted to explain exactly what the club means to me today, I had a very difficult time.

Allow me to explain. You see, as I would imagine is the case for many of us, DZT doesn't really have much to do with everyday life. I'm fairly certain that DZT didn't reach me any tips on how to successfully fight the potty training wars (and if they did, I must have missed it because my son is totally winning this battle). Nor did my time in DZT prepare me for the bittersweet moment when I left my daughter at her kindergarten class for the first time this year. And I'm pretty sure that being a member of the best female club on campus was no preparation for the endless peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that I make (in fact, after induction, it's a miracle I can stomach peanut butter at all). Furthermore, on a completely superficial level, my time in DZT hasn't even affected my wardrobe decisions. Indeed, I am sad to report that the number of red clothing items in my closet can very neatly be counted on the fingers of one hand. Yes. Just one hand.

I did manage to locate my old jersey, but alas, the late 90's fashion trends which dictated buying an extra large shirt only to cut off the bottom half of it with a a pair of scissors (what the heck were we thinking??) has left that shirt unwearable, even for sleep.

So, what can I actually write about? I mean, anyone who knows me from those days, knows that I really loved being a part of DZT. Sure, I could always dredge up some hilarious induction memories (most of which include me crying or laughing - it was a week of extreme emotions, as we all know). Or I could talk about the weekly meetings, the events, the never-ending bread breaking ceremonies, or the intramural sports (like the time Tony Webb coached us to actually win the flag football championship only after using many non-repeatable words to tell us to shut-up and quit acting like girls. It was totally great). Or I could always reminisce about when another member and I worked for days to create a new Sponge Toss booth for the Harvest Hoedown, only to have our volunteers back out. Apparently, getting a wet sponge thrown at your face actually hurts. Who knew?

But I know very well that while those stories may (but probably not) be entertaining and interesting, they would only be recognizable to the members who were in the club during the time I was. And did they really help to explain why I still hold DZT very close to my heart even after all these years?

So, I started thinking bigger. And here's where I ended up.

God created us as social beings. We all desire to feel loved, to know that we are important, that we matter, that we belong. I believe that this desire is even more pronounced in females. For me, and I believe for many of us, being involved in DZT satisfied that deep-felt desire. We belonged to something important, something bigger than ourselves, and, most importantly, we were asked to be a part of this because a group of people found each one of us . . . special.

I'll never forget my first semester in DZT when, during an induction activity, one of the new inductees was asked why she wanted to be a member of DZT. She immediately started crying (not totally out of the ordinary during those induction days), but through her tears she explained that all her life she wanted but never felt like she had . . . girl friends. Now, while I didn't know this particular girl very well, I did know that she had friends. She wasn't an outcast, by any means. But, I also knew exactly what she was talking about.

She wanted friends. She wanted friends who would accept her for who she was. Friends who would take a real interest in how she was doing each day. Friends who would see her through the sickness and loss of her grandfather. Friends who would be there through the breakup with the long-time boyfriend, who would celebrate a good grade or that happy engagement. Friends who would support her, pray for her, and love her. No matter what. Friends who were like. . . sisters.

I have three younger brothers. No sisters. So having a room full of sisters was immensely attractive to me. Of course it wasn't always wonderful. Let's be honest. You can't have that many women together and have everyone get along. It's simply not possible. Sure, I was closer to a few of them more than others (if you know me, then you know who those few were/are), but I'm thinking this was the case for most of us.


While not all of the relationships that I developed with the members of DZT have withstood the passing of time, what I can tell you is that, for whatever reason, I still care about these women. I search them out on Facebook, joy in seeing their families grow, celebrate their victories, and lift up their needs in prayer. Why? Because at what other time, before or after, have you ever had 40 some sisters and all the blessings that come with that?

It means something. Something important. Sure, having that many sisters comes with its own headaches. But, would I (or you?) be the same person today without DZT?

Nope.

So, while I may not break out my jersey and wear it every Monday, and I can't remember a single induction greeting, I do know that my time involved in that club and the "life-long sisters" gained from it was/is pretty darn special.

And that's why I love DZT . . . still.