October 15, 2002|

Admission

It’s been two days since my spontaneous adventure to Boston. I’d been there since Wednesday, attempting to turn a not so insignificant corner in my life. For the first time in two years, I am making tangible plans for my future. So that’s why I was there, at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary. After a long, challenging and strenuous journey, I have arrived at a crossroad, a fork in the road. What now do I do with my life?

I didn’t think I’d actually make the trip to South Hamilton, Massachusetts. At least not this soon. I signed up for the prospective student program a month ago, never intending to actually make the trip. Somehow a number of quirky events fell into place and I found myself the day before I had to arrive contemplating the logistics of the trip. All of sudden I was on the Mass Pike gazing at the changing colors of the leaves. What was I doing?

For most people, this would have been a simple road trip- an exploratory expedition complete with free food, free lodging and a chance to see a New England Autumn. For me it was much more. It was admission. I was allowing myself to concretely contemplate my future. I was giving myself permission to peer into what could be a viable vocation for my life. If. A big “If.” If the health holds up.

I used to have a five-year plan for my life. It was organized to the most minute detail, down to the year I would get married (despite having zero prospects on the horizon). Don’t you love us Type-A ESTJs! Thankfully, and I do mean thankfully, cancer snatched such foolishness away. Instead I was forced to concentrate on the day and how I would best make use of the twenty-four hours given to me. Now, though, as things are looking bright, I need to start looking to the future, in addition to still living completely for the day. It’s an optimistic approach, certainly, but a cautiously optimistic approach. It’s a big step, a dang big step. For anyone emerging out of crisis mode in life, to start focusing on the future, goodness, it’s quite scary and nerve-racking. But wow, is it exciting. It’s admitting something. It’s admitting you have a future. It’s sticking your foot out to take that first step. The next journey is about to begin.

I am not sure what’s going to happen and I’m certainly not sure of which road to take. Threats of the cancer and threats of the peripheral side effects (soreness, infections, colon issues, etc) abound. But I view them as bags to carry along the journey. They don\’t deter my first step. My step is my own.

Do I want to go into the ministry? I don’t know. I know my talents. I know my strengths. I know my weaknesses. I know my interests. I know what makes me come alive. I know what energizes me. Where that leads me remains to be seen, but I know myself.

As for what happened, I had an absolutely fantastic time. I was really impressed by the school, the students and the faculty. I enjoyed Boston, despite getting lost numerous times while driving downtown. Streets- they just end and pick up a block later. Some one-way streets reverse, becoming one-way streets in the opposite direction. I thought I was smoking crack. And there was a Dunkin’ Donuts on every corner. Every corner! In Philly you have your Wa-Wa. In New York City you have your Starbucks. In Boston you have your Dunkin’ Donuts.

Thank you for your calls and e-mails, your support and your encouragement, your prayers and thoughts. I hope you are as excited for the future as I am, whether it includes hoagies, cafÈ lattes, or Munchkins. I admit, I personally, can’t wait.