Lastness

Last night, I had this surreal moment near the end of the Women and the Preaching Life class that I have been taking all semester.  This semester will likely the last semester of in-person classes at Wesley.  I am moving back to North Carolina, to our house in the residential section of Lutheridge, and I'll take classes from a distance.

Last night I tried to slow down and let myself experience the "lastness."  I've been expecting to feel some sort of emotional extreme; I have a reason to feel both sadness and happiness.  But for the most part, I've just felt a steadiness.  After all, I still have a lot to do.

Plus, I've felt this lastness before.  Yesterday I thought back to a day in 1991, when I got out of my last class for Spring term in my PhD.  I went down to the historic part of the campus, the Horseshoe at the University of South Carolina.  I watched undergrads enjoying a warm spring day.  I sat on a bench and thought, "I'll never take a class again."  I thought that with a bit of both sadness and joy.

I still had plenty to do:  a dissertation to write, oral and written Comprehensive Exams to take.  I assumed that I had a bright future, a teaching job at a small, liberal arts school.  Little did I know what was coming my way:  the 1992 recession, which was one of the worst in a few decades, and the slow collapse of higher ed.

I did have a bright future, but it wasn't that particular bright future.

And now, I need to keep working towards my next bright future.  My Luke paper is due tomorrow, and I must get it out of my brain, out of my notes, and actually onto the page.