The fabric of my life has been woven with so many wonderful memories and meaningful relationships. Oftentimes, I get so caught up in the beauty and simplicity of times past that I have a hard time appreciating the present. Growing older…well, just life in general…can somehow makes things seems less beautiful and less simple. But thank goodness the memories remain. And when a glimpse of the past peeks into my life and jars my sensory memory, I feel a swell of gratitude, both for the time from which the memory comes, and the present moment that is allowing the memory to permeate my senses.
As I drove down Sunset Drive on Saturday, with Steve Winwood crooning, “It used to seem to me that my life went on too fast, but you have to take it slowly just to make the good parts last,” I am taken back to my senior year in college, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the Alpha Gam lodge with Faith, Jenny, Noreen, Stacy, Karol, Diane, and countless others, watching the slide show that Greg Howard put together for us, recapping the fun we had that year. And at the same time, I am able to see myself as a part of the memory-making for “my” students now, the PCMers at Emory, I and hope beyond all hopes that when they are in their 40’s, listening to songs from their college days, they remember their friends, and maybe even me, and smile.
As we listened to “Love You Down” by RFTW, I shared with my students the memory of my first dance with Joel in the Pi Kapp lodge at Mercer. It was to that song, and we talked about getting married even then, that very night, before we had dated, before we even knew each other very well. Yet somehow we knew. And I told them how very fortunate I feel to still be in love with my husband after almost 20 years. I shared with them that those 20 years had not always been easy, but that good, true relationships are not always easy, and that the work has been so very hard, while at the same time so very worth it. And as I see “my” girls struggling with their dating / boyfriend / relationship issues and questions, I am reminded of what it felt like to be young and in love, or young and wondering & waiting & questioning, and I smile. I’m grateful for those who traveled that road with me too, and I hope that when these girls are in their forties, they can look back on their dating experiences and be thankful for the way they helped them grown and learn more about themselves and about life in general.
As I talk with my seniors about their life post-graduation in May, I remember my first few years of "adulthood" after my own graduation from Mercer in 1988. It was then that I fell into my first vocation, that of a classroom teacher. It was a true calling, and I loved every minute of it...well, almost. I am grateful for the students I had in the classroom during my years of teaching math, whether at Mount de Sales, Montgomery Catholic, or Saint James. They taught me more about parenting teenagers than I realized at the time, and I think of them so often as we wade through the parenting of our own three sons, ages 10, 12, and 14. And the words of gratitude and remembering they have shared with me on Facebook in the past few months has been a wonderful affirmation for me during some hard times. It is a beautiful thing when former students, now in their early thirties, write to me things like this: "(My sister) and I were talking about the best teachers we ever had and you were on the top of my list. I really appreciate you, you were there for me during a very had time in my life." I don't think I fully appreciated the opportunity that being a classroom teacher gave me to touch the lives of students in deeply significant and permanent ways, and if I had realized the impact that I could potentially have, it might have scared me off, honestly. But as I continue to strive to do what I am called to do in this life, I am so very grateful for that first vocational call in the classroom, and the beautiful relationships that have grown out of that. I hope & pray that my graduating seniors are able to find jobs that aren't simply work for them, but rather are true callings, full of challenges and opportunities that they enjoy as much as I did my time in the classroom.
As I stood in the kitchen of Richard and Elizabeth Deibert with my students on Friday night, holding hands and asking God’s blessing on the wonderfully delicious meal, Richard’s prayer enveloped me with warmth. The comfort elicited by his soothing words and his familiar voice settled in all around me in a totally unexpected way. I was taken back…back to a time when my faith was a mere bud of a blossom…back to Immanuel Presbyterian Church in Mongtomgery. It was then that Joel & I began to learn what it meant to read Scripture in its own context, and what it meant to wrestle with a text. As I look where I am today in my faith life and in my ever-growing understanding of what it means to believe that God is constantly at work in this world, I hope beyond all hopes that when my students are in their 40’s, something might jar their sensory memory and they might remember the times we wrestled with a text or with a difficult question and smile, grateful for the small part that I and our small group played in their journey of faith.
Many of you reading this blog now are threads in the fabric that is my life. You check in every now and then to keep up with Mom’s health and you leave comments, so I know you are reading. But this post is much more about you and me than it is about Mom. You should know who you are, but in case you are not sure, I’ll remind you. If you shared good times and bad times with me during my childhood and teenage years in Dublin, I thank you for being a part of my life. If we hung out at Mercer during our college years, if you helped me learn more about “me” during those times, I thank you for being a part of my life. If you were in one of my classes during my years of teaching, either at Mount de Sales in Macon, or at Saint James in Montgomery, I thank you for being a part of my life. If you have talked about the difficult issues of faith and life with me, either at Immanuel, Fourth, or since we’ve been in Decatur, I thank you for being a part of my life. If you have read between the lines these past few weeks and seen the exhaustion on my face or heard it in my voice, and have offered to have the boys over for a few hours, or take them out for a few hours, I thank you for being a part of my life. Each of you has played a part in giving me the strength that I now have as a mother, daughter, wife, friend, pastor, child of God, person of faith. And I thank you for the ways you have walked with me, especially lately, on this continued journey we call life.
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