I've been getting some complaints about the infrequency of my writing. And let's not kid ourselves, I love that people (okay, one person) care enough to pester me with texts (okay, one text) about my blogging. Here's the problem. I don't do much. I mean, anything. Life is kind of depressing right now and I've not been so much in the creative mood lately. But, I want to honor you, my readers, all the same. So you get a treat today. Writing that I didn't do.
I've been feeling really nostalgic and a little down watching everyone head back to school this month. Nelson has been busy with orientation activities all week and a lot of backpacks and bicycles have been passing by our window. I felt this way last year too as I watched all of my friends talk about their new classes and professors. Apparently, this nostalgia and minor depression isn't going to go away as long as I'm not in school.
Okay enough, I said you weren't going to read my writing. The following is a Sunday newsletter my dad wrote about my first week of college, 9 years ago this week. I found it this morning and felt it was an appropriate parallel for where I am now. If you like his writing, you can subscribe to his weekly letter or check out his church's website, Urbana Grace UMC (though it's under construction for another week or so).
"I have now launched both of my daughters into college.
So now all of my child-rearing theories,
all of my advice,
and all of my mad scientist/psychologist/father experiments on them are to be put fully to the test.
Mindy, of course, was already thrust from the nest a couple years ago. (Actually, no thrusting was necessary as she rather jumped out on her own.) I am pleased that she survives. Survival is by no means an accomplishment. But lest you think my ambitions for her are too low, I am also pleased that she is learning and growing in her studies and theater work at Bradley University. She is continually making new friends, and she continues to ponder her life's calling (after college) and how to earn her own money. Those last two: life's calling and earning money can be puzzling. And one hopes that one's call and one's paycheck will fit together.
Alison is just propelled from the nest in DePaul University in downtown Chicago. I am enthusiastic about her being at DePaul to study psychology. But I do have one tiny concern. Although she is a bright person, Alison can be a little oblivious when driving around, or walking around, or just plain moving. (I have heard that brilliant people can occasionally be absent-minded.) She herself has noted that when she gets lots in Urbana, she eventually ends up in a cornfield. But when she gets lost in Chicago (and it is WHEN, not if) she could be roaming the city for days.
At first, i thought i would give her some fatherly advice on how to not get lost. But then I decided to change my tactic. I'd better focus my energy on training her on what to do WHEN she gets lost. After all, even well-oriented people can get lost in Chicago.
The test for Alison came last week. One of her classes is held in the Loop campus instead of the Lincoln Park campus. So she has to take the El. No problem, however, as her roommate is in the same class and familiar with the city. Alison could simply tag along. They arrived at the subway and waited for the train. When the train pulled up, Alison got on, the train door shut, and the roommate stood on the platform wondering why Alison got on the wrong train. Alison didn't know the address of the Loop campus, she didn't know what stop to exit on, and she didn't know what room her class was in.
After she talked to lots of people who also didn't know, after she wandered the streets of the Loop for about 30 minutes, and after she conferred with a couple of police officers, she found the building. A brief stop in the restroom went slightly awry when a locked door jammed, leaving her trapped in a bathroom stall. But she finally made it to class having been both successfully lost and locked up.
That's life. To be lost here and there. To be stuck here and there. Maybe, as Alison's father, I prepared her - maybe not. But I am a theologian too. It is guaranteed in life: we will be lost, and we will be stuck. By the grace of God, may we be successfully so." --Mike
I've been feeling really nostalgic and a little down watching everyone head back to school this month. Nelson has been busy with orientation activities all week and a lot of backpacks and bicycles have been passing by our window. I felt this way last year too as I watched all of my friends talk about their new classes and professors. Apparently, this nostalgia and minor depression isn't going to go away as long as I'm not in school.
Okay enough, I said you weren't going to read my writing. The following is a Sunday newsletter my dad wrote about my first week of college, 9 years ago this week. I found it this morning and felt it was an appropriate parallel for where I am now. If you like his writing, you can subscribe to his weekly letter or check out his church's website, Urbana Grace UMC (though it's under construction for another week or so).
"I have now launched both of my daughters into college.
So now all of my child-rearing theories,
all of my advice,
and all of my mad scientist/psychologist/father experiments on them are to be put fully to the test.
Mindy, of course, was already thrust from the nest a couple years ago. (Actually, no thrusting was necessary as she rather jumped out on her own.) I am pleased that she survives. Survival is by no means an accomplishment. But lest you think my ambitions for her are too low, I am also pleased that she is learning and growing in her studies and theater work at Bradley University. She is continually making new friends, and she continues to ponder her life's calling (after college) and how to earn her own money. Those last two: life's calling and earning money can be puzzling. And one hopes that one's call and one's paycheck will fit together.
Alison is just propelled from the nest in DePaul University in downtown Chicago. I am enthusiastic about her being at DePaul to study psychology. But I do have one tiny concern. Although she is a bright person, Alison can be a little oblivious when driving around, or walking around, or just plain moving. (I have heard that brilliant people can occasionally be absent-minded.) She herself has noted that when she gets lots in Urbana, she eventually ends up in a cornfield. But when she gets lost in Chicago (and it is WHEN, not if) she could be roaming the city for days.
At first, i thought i would give her some fatherly advice on how to not get lost. But then I decided to change my tactic. I'd better focus my energy on training her on what to do WHEN she gets lost. After all, even well-oriented people can get lost in Chicago.
The test for Alison came last week. One of her classes is held in the Loop campus instead of the Lincoln Park campus. So she has to take the El. No problem, however, as her roommate is in the same class and familiar with the city. Alison could simply tag along. They arrived at the subway and waited for the train. When the train pulled up, Alison got on, the train door shut, and the roommate stood on the platform wondering why Alison got on the wrong train. Alison didn't know the address of the Loop campus, she didn't know what stop to exit on, and she didn't know what room her class was in.
After she talked to lots of people who also didn't know, after she wandered the streets of the Loop for about 30 minutes, and after she conferred with a couple of police officers, she found the building. A brief stop in the restroom went slightly awry when a locked door jammed, leaving her trapped in a bathroom stall. But she finally made it to class having been both successfully lost and locked up.
That's life. To be lost here and there. To be stuck here and there. Maybe, as Alison's father, I prepared her - maybe not. But I am a theologian too. It is guaranteed in life: we will be lost, and we will be stuck. By the grace of God, may we be successfully so." --Mike
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