The final assignment is finished. It’s ready. But I’m not. I just can’t hit “post reply.”
Let me begin by making it very clear that this title
is painfully misleading. I could just as
easily write a post about how grad school saved my life, because in a lot of
ways, it did. It took me fifteen years
after high school graduation to earn my BSM, because I choose to do life in a
different order than what is generally considered normal. I got married first, had a family first. I have always loved the role in which I raise
my kids. They are the center of my
world, for better or worse, whether it's good or right or sometimes over the
top. People who know me well know that I
am generally a pretty nice person, but if you mess with my kids, I turn into
something crazy. I mean, I don't even
recognize myself!
By the time I walked across the stage at Indiana
Wesleyan University and grasped the all consuming piece of paper that finally
proved I knew a lot about something as opposed to just a little bit about
everything; I was exhausted. And five
little faces, ranging in age from two to eleven, stared back at me with a
certain sense of relief, because Mommy was finally finished with school. I didn't have the heart to tell them I was
going back on Monday.
I had spent the summer deciding what I wanted to do
next with my life. I had been accepted
into multiple graduate programs. Did I
want to stick with business or organizational leadership? Did I want to dive into something different
altogether? Did I have what it took to
do graduate level coursework at all? I
finally decided on a theology degree at Northwest Nazarene University. That place has been calling to me since I was
eighteen and lived on the corner of the school property for about six weeks in
a house that no longer exists. It was time
to throw my hat in the ring. Just two
years, though. I was going to blow in,
be awesome, and blow out, with another framed diploma to hang on my wall.
Honestly, I thought I was pretty great. I was also
cynical and jaded, mad at the world and certainly mad at the church. I started that first course wondering just
how many people I could tick off in eight weeks. It took me about three days to realize I was
in over my head and the entire first semester just to figure out how to keep
up. But, I have always liked a
challenge. This one rocked my
expectations… pretty much all of them…
I was not going to be friends with anyone in my cohort. I think they figured out early on that I was
volatile and broken in about a million pieces.
Try spending two years with people like that, who want to be friends, discussing the deepest issues of spiritual
formation, and just see how that not being friends thing works out for
you. I held out until October, I think…
In 2014, sitting in my four year old’s room at
bedtime, after an incredibly awesome birthday party for my middle child who had
just turned “double digits,” I watched the tape delayed version of my
graduation from NNU, went to bed, myself, and woke up early the next morning to
preach my first sermon. I loved it. Over the next couple of months, I carefully
considered my next move. Would I really
take a year off, as planned? Should I
make an attempt at law school? Maybe it
was time to pursue doctoral work, back in the field of organizational
leadership. I could have chosen any of
it, but that sermon set me on a path from which I couldn’t turn back. Scratch that.
I still believe in free will, so we all know I could have turned back, but I knew I wouldn’t.
Sometime later, I received what was probably a form
letter to all M.A. graduates of NNU, encouraging me to come back to complete
the M.Div. Before I knew it, I had
enrolled in “just one class” for the upcoming fall term. I think I told Phil about this a few days
before the school year began, primarily because I needed his books. I would have kept it a secret, entirely,
except my returning cohort friends were all like, “What the heck are you doing
here?” I guess I should have used a
pseudonym…
Well, “one more class” turned to two… and then
three… and then fourteen…
The truth is; I found myself at NNU. I feel more like who I was always created to
be when I am there (on campus, for sure, but even online). I’d move there, with hardly a backwards
glance, if I could find a job. And in a
matter of moments, I am going to make one final click on this keyboard, and I
am no longer going to be a student at NNU.
Excuse me while I cry just a little bit longer. It’s something of an identity crisis.
I don’t know what’s next, but here are some things I
do know…
I am called to ministry. There is no denying it, no escaping it, I’m
not even trying.
I am good with people. I never would have guessed this to be true,
but it is. I also need more community than
I thought possible. Go figure.
I am passionate about education. That’s always been the case. I’m never going to stop learning, and I’m
never going to stop teaching. I am,
however, slightly terrified about what that may or may not look like in the coming
years. I have big dreams, but they’re a
little bit scary to pursue.
I’m a good writer and a good editor, even though
this particular post reads something like a grocery list.
I still love being a mom more than anything in the
world, and finding out who I am has not hindered that in any way but has,
instead, helped me to raise kids who are stronger than I ever imagined they
could be.
Something
will happen tomorrow… and the next day… and the day after that…
I kind of stink at endings, but I’m good at beginnings,
and they always follow, so it will be OK.
L.
