On Sunday, we sort of cheated on our church. We went to Sunday school, because Sunday school is importante and because we love our class and because we do not want them to think we are cheating on them [They don’t know about this little blawg, so it is safe to talk about the cheating here, but don’t tell on us, Internets!]. We loved being there with all of them, especially the part where one of the new babies got all squeaky – he is so tiny! so squeaky! But I don’t know them well enough to hold him and so I just look and smile and hope to one day be friends with his mother.
J & R were trying out a different church, not far from our church and so we made a mad dash over to the other place for the worship service. It was a pretty large and in charge, beautiful people kind of crowd. We’re not the typical super-poor seminary students (although once the lab bills all roll in, we may be joining their ranks. If your results come back positive for deadly things, don’t you think they should cut you some slack? Shouldn’t there be a “we’re sorry we told you that you have cancer clause?” Yeah, I think so too.) Anyway, we aren’t poor, but, baby, we were not rich enough for that crowd. I’m not even sure we were white enough.
After the service was over the guy who I’d been sitting next to struck up a conversation with us. He’s a sem student too, although he’s been taking classes for three years and has the same amount of credits as Jud (Jud=fast track, Stranger Man=may have to retake classes because they only give you seven years to get the job done). He asked what the hardest part of seminary has been so far and without hesitating Jud said, “SF has been the most painful”, which Stranger Man interpreted as “We’ve been so challenged and it’s totally rocking our world. Awesomely pain-filled!” It was not said in that context. It was said in the literal “Oh, please make this stop! I will chew my own arm off if it will make this go away forever!” context.
Once the confusion was cleared up, he kept suggesting we get in touch with people at the sem to tell them about our experience. We told him a few times that we’d explained the negativity to them without much concern on their behalf and much more of a “God will teach something from this terrible thing we are forcing upon your life” response. And we are learning. We are learning how to persevere and how to keep from strangling leaders who have infinitesimal amounts of leadership skills. We told Stranger Man that but he.would.not.let.it.drop. He kept.repeating.the.same.parental.advice. I imagined my head exploding and then finally Jud wrapped up the conversation with a “Well, have a good day.” Thank you, Stranger Man, for you bizarro-world advice.
On a completely positive note, our SF people are coming over for dinner tonight. We hope to add one more notch in our perseverance belt, but just in case we do not bear up under the awkwardness, you might want to watch the news tonight.
Apart from fixating on supper tonight’s pain, I have also been thinking quite a bit about an old friend from the college days who recently moved down here to the Dallas area, significantly north of where we live in the heart of the city, but still in the metroplex. She’s been married about five years now, if my memory is correct. I was telling Jud and Jeremy and Rachel that her wedding was by far the most beautiful wedding I’d ever attended, including my own (you’re not supposed to say things like that, are you? Aren’t you supposed to believe that your child is the most beautiful one in the whole world? Isn’t your wedding kind of your baby until you actually have one? At least for a couple of years? I loved our wedding and it was very pretty, but hers had moments where I was sure we were being photographed for a magazine).
We didn’t talk all that much after her wedding. I don’t think I even invited her to mine (didn’t know her address/didn’t think about it at the time/didn’t want to take the time to track down the people of which I’d already lost track/typical military brat mentality). We had coffee once the year after she got married and it was good, but not familiar like it used to be. She’d graduated into a different world of husbands and responsibilities and I’d stayed in the old country with the question marks about life and love. The distance was too great.
Now we are in the same place and I want to reach out to her and share a coffee again, but I don’t have her address now either. I’ll have to do some investigative work to track her down, and I feel as if I am taking a risk to do those things (Is there a stalker vibe to contacting her? Will she think it is nice or possibly psychotic? Why do I stress myself out over having coffee with an old friend? Why am I such a loon?!).
So, Internets, if you notice me stalking you, do not be alarmed. I am merely attempting to be your friend.
