Mastering a Masters

As I approach graduation from seminary, I feel nearly as anxious as I did upon starting. I remember reviewing my first seminary syllabus, tearing up and then heading out onto the lake where we were vacationing. Floating in the kayak, I was convinced I would drown in the first term. My instinct was to question whether or not I should go through with beginning graduate school. I looked at my bare knees in the boat, dabbled with water droplets dripping from my paddle. The sun was just going down and I daydreamed about staying out on the lake all night. Safe. Safe from that syllabus of death, anyway.

Meanwhile, I loved that class. It gave me the opportunity to attend an Islamic prayer service one Friday afternoon. It introduced me to Audre Lorde and James Baldwin and countless other significant authors. It taught me that a wise way to think was to question. And it gave me a powerful push down the road I near the end of now. A road that has been made up of new ways of listening and deconstructing to rebuild a firm foundation. This does not mean I know exactly what I believe or how the world works; on the contrary.

So nearly three years, over 40 credits, 80 hours of spiritual direction, and basically constant thought about school later, my trip to Minnesota to receive my diploma beckons. And I am anxious. I am proud. I am excited. I am relieved. But, I am also anxious. Seminary was not the answer I thought it would be, but another big question along my spiritual journey. It was simply a stop along the path that unfurls before me leading I know not where, but have become better equipped to wait and watch for. Thankfully.

And here I go, taking the next best baby step into my future. Free from school, but also, sadly, free from school. Oh wait, I still have one more class to take this summer. Whew. Kicked that can just in time.