Wednesday, September 14, 2022

A Potato Palooza of a Day

This morning, I slept until 5:15 a.m., which is sleeping in for me.  I was surprised because at 2 a.m., I thought about giving up on sleep and getting my day started.  Happily, I was able to drift back to sleep.  I went to bed close to 10:00 p.m., and even for me, 4 hours of sleep isn't quite enough.

Yesterday was jam-packed, but in some of the best possible ways.  I went on my early morning walk for the first time in days; I spent much of last week waiting for the locksmith, plus it was rainy, so I didn't get as many walks in as I hope that a normal week will have.

My spouse is in North Carolina, with the little house that needs updates.  It was built in the 1970's as a vacation house, so it needs some basics, like an HVAC system, along with updating.  He's staying there for now to get some of this work done.  He says that he's always wanted to do a rehab project where he doesn't have to work around the people living in the house and where he's not on an impossible deadline.  Now he can have that experience.

We talk once a day, usually by way of a Facebook video call, so we had a chat yesterday.  After we hung up, I got my reading done for my 1:30 class and headed to chapel for a nourishing worship service.  

After the service, Wesley offered us a Potato Palooza.  I was expecting a basic baked potato bar, but it was so much more.  I thought that the school might re-open the kitchen facilities, but they had the food brought in.  We were told to pick a goody box, a baked potato in a separate container, and a cup of chili (with a choice of chicken, beef, or veggie).  Inside the goody box was a veggie salad, a fruit salad, a corn muffin, and a dessert.  We had enough so that everyone could take extras home for a later meal.

Even better than the food (and it was good) was the chance to share a meal together.  I ate with one of my professors from Spring and one of my professors now, both teaching in the Arts and Religion track.  We were joined by the Admissions person who remembered my application and an HR person.  It was delightful.

I did wonder if I should make more of an effort to meet my fellow students, but my inner new kid was doing well to force herself to stay for the meal, so I gave myself a break.  And I also realized that I might have more in common with the people at my table than with a table of students.  It's hard to know.

My spring semester professor turned to me at one point and said, "It's so good to have you here on campus."  Wow--my inner new kid will treasure that comment, well, forever.

After the Potato Palooza, I felt like I'd already had a very full day, but I still had two classes ahead.  Happily, they, too, were very full, in the best possible way, full of valuable information, full of smaller group interactions, full of good feedback.

I have had a few moments in the past weeks and months when I've wondered if I would look back on this time and see it as a terrible mistake, a huge loss of money, a slow motion separation from all whom I've held dear.  I don't know that those moments are based in real information or on fear, but I'm forging ahead.  

I think back to the Ignatian concept of decisions made out of consolation or out of desolation.  To explain it in an overly simple way, if a decision/answer makes one feel inspired and fulfilled, like one is living into one's purpose for life, that one is moving closer to God, it's a decision/answer made in consolation. If it makes one feel otherwise, it's a mark of desolation.

And here's where it gets tricky. One can come to a decision/answer in consolation, but still feel some tinges of desolation as one goes on.  This concept has been one of the more helpful things I learned in my certificate program for spiritual direction.

Yesterday was one of those days that reminded me that my decision to come to seminary and all the subsequent decisions were choices made in a place of consolation.  And it's not just me who thinks that--I have the support of my home church, of family and friends, of my candidacy committee.  I understand how rare it is to have this level of emotional support.

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