waltondammerung

Getting my nostalgia waxed

Josh is out of town for awhile (okay, he's exactly halfway across the planet for two weeks), so I'm taking the opportunity to enjoy some quality time with myself. And to clean like a madwoman. I decided to go through a giant crate of notebooks from college and grad school to see whether I could clear the way for our new bike gear in the closet. I was not looking forward to the task. I was looking forward to being done with it, however, and having a place to put my helmet other than the couch, so I set to with a bowl of fruit to munch on and a glass of gewurtztraminer to fortify me for the work ahead.

What I didn't expect were all of the pleasant surprises awaiting me--letters from friends stuck in with my class notes, my travel notebook from the crazy summer I spent travelling from Hillsdale to Colorado to Arizona to France to Ohio and then back to Hillsdale, and the surprising amount of material I still remember from the classes I took 4-9 years ago. There were unpleasant surprises, too, like how bad my French language skills have become. (Okay, who uses words like "gouffre" anyway? I'm guessing no one other than 19th century poets.) All in all, though, it's been a pleasant evening, and I've come away with a few satisfying realizations. Permit my self-indulgence while I describe what I've rediscovered about my pre-marriage, pre-California, pre-job life:

1. I have always been (and I still am) glad that I went to Hillsdale. Going through my notes just reminded me of that all over again. It's an odd place, and the professors certainly aren't the top scholars in their fields (at least not for the things I was studying). But the instructors are dedicated to developing young minds, not just indoctrinating them with correct political ideals, in spite of the strong political messages that come out of the school's fundraising efforts. I've come to learn that that's pretty unusual now. They're good at it, too. From Dr. Sundahl's novel-like syllabi and fierce grading habits that include McDonald's employment applications to Dr. Holmes giving "cleos" to the good students and "public shame" to the bad, I came away with a good grounding in the liberal arts that I wouldn't trade for a degree from Harvard or Princeton.

More than anything, though, I am glad I met and made the friends that I did. We've gone from being goofy freshman giggling over and judiciously recording our double entendres to almost mature adults with jobs, families, and ever-deepening love for one another. Not least among these is my husband. I wouldn't trade him for the world. I'm so glad I got a Hillsdale man. :)

2. In spite of huge chunks of my monthly salary going to pay student loans from grad school, I have never regretted going to U Chicago for a moment. Not only do we have cool alumni events like the hike I'm going on tomorrow, but the experience of working with world-class scholars, living on my own in Chicago, and taking my studies to the next level were invaluable. Grad school rounded out my education in a way that Hillsdale never could. Hillsdale taught me to be a good thinker; Chicago tested that by teaching me to encounter the intellectual mores of my own time both inside and outside of the classroom. Hillsdale taught me to fortify my beliefs through mental discipline, Chicago strengthened them by trying to blast them away. It was a hard year in so many respects. One thing I learned was how to work like a dog from the moment I got up until the second my head hit the pillow at night. (Even then, I literally dreamed more than one essay into existence during the night.) More importantly, the year took me from excitement over the intellectual stimulation provided by the likes of Derrida and Lacan to an understanding of the real implications of sentences like, "It is the world of words which creates the world of things." It was at Chicago where I learned to see the God-shaped hole in even the most intricate intellectual writings.

3. I don't want to go back. Ever since I left grad school, I've toyed with the idea of returning, some times much more seriously than others. I loved studying literature, and I was really good at it, but I just can't see myself writing a paper comparing "longing" in Russian and French poetry any more. (I'm sure in a few years I will probably feel the same way about sending out giant yellow and green catalogs and writing about nanotechnology.) I read my notes and realized that the work I was doing wasn't any more difficult or challenging than what I am doing now, and my work now is much more rewarding in many ways. Grad school was perfect for me when I was 22 and still grasping for ways to define and identify with the human condition. I still love literature, but I am so much more grounded in biblical teaching that a lot of what used to fascinate me now with its intellectual puzzles and intricacies just stands out as really missing the mark. At least I understand what I'm disagreeing with, though, and how deeply it impacts the spirit of the day. Comparative literature scholars are pretty self-indulgent, too, and I'm not sure how much I could put up with that now, having spent four years in the more pragmatic world of "business". Grad school was an irreplaceable experience, but it was an episode in my life that I don't really need to relive.

What a satisfying thing to be able to look back and see that, while a lot of the major decisions I've made about my life have been haphazard or misinformed or just naive, God has been using them to mold me into a mature adult and draw me closer to Him. He has given me what He knew I needed whether I understood it fully or not. He has worked through my weaknesses and made them my strengths for His glory. Whether I strive for it as much as I should or not, Soli Deo Gloria. Thank you, Lord.