My thoughts and reflections on my Catholic Faith, Fulton Sheen, the problem of suffering, and books

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Eight More Days...

I'm leaving this place in 8 days, blastit!

Three years ago, as a Freshman, I teared up at the prospect of leaving for Spring Break--for 9 brief days. Just 9 days, and I would be back; yet those 9 days, before they happened, seemed like an eternity. Because even Freshman Year, this place had become home to me; I was on solid ground here, I knew there were people here who loved me unconditionally.

Now, in 8 short days, I'm leaving this place.  For good.  And I'm not coming back.  O yes, maybe I'll visit, but those will be brief visits; this will no longer be home; I won't belong here anymore.

O, I know college is supposed to be a place where you spend 4 years of your life, and then you move on.  Go out into the big world[1], get a job, a car; accept responsibility (eeeks!), live an adult life--because you are an adult.  Heck, I've been an adult for 23 months, by the 21-is-an-adult rule.  Granted, my mother doesn't think I'm an adult, but...moving on now.  Not going to think about that...shutting up on that topic before I freak out.

I've spent three years, eight months, and thirteen days of my life here; this place has been home to me, and I've struck roots here.  Deep roots.  Now they're being torn up, and it hurts.  There are people here who love me unconditionally, me as I am, with my impatience and my pride and my Fulton Sheen obsession.  There are people here who love me whether or not I get straight A's (which I don't), who love me despite our squabbles over the years, who love me despite my scatter-brain tendencies (said tendencies are basically what my mother refers to when she says that I have no common sense), who love me for me.

There are many, many things I love about Christendom: the Catholic environment, the ability to attend daily Mass, the education I've received here, the beautiful campus, the beautiful library and its resources...but what I will miss most will be the people: the friends I've made, the relationships we've formed, the time we've spent together; and the professors, who aren't just professors but are mentors, counselors, and unofficial psychotherapists. ;)

The friends who've "been there for me, and whom I've been there for"[2]; with whom I've laughed and cried and had philosophical conversations late at night.  We've gone to dances and eaten too much chocolate together; we've had our squabbles and our painful disagreements, but all-in-all, we've been there for each other.  For 8 semesters, we've bonded, we've done the things friends do.  And now we're moving on.  My best friend is joining the Poor Clares in the next year or so; once she enters, I'll never see her again.  And I know friendships change, but it still hurts, even though I know we'll still be connected in the Communion of Saints.  My friends are going home (because they can, because they have normal family lives and won't literally lose their sanity if they go home); the few people who are staying in the area aren't the ones who have been closest to me over the past 4 years.   And I am going to miss that daily contact with them, the late-night chats, the study sessions, the time we spent hanging out together.

The professors who've helped me with homework, papers, and tests--at lunch, in the classroom, in their office hours.  The professors who've counseled and advised me in their offices, after class, over the phone, via email.  The professor who opened his home and his heart and his family to me Freshman Year.  The professors who've been there for me, who've loved me as I am.

Our beloved History Professor, whom I never really appreciated until our whole college community faced the possibility of losing him; who has inspired me on a daily basis by his courage; who has been a beautiful example of the Christian acceptance of suffering; who has stayed long past the end of his office hours to listen to me rant, or to keep me from "spontaneously combusting," or to solve the most recent outbreak of "Emily Hurt's Personal Brand of Senioritis, (c) 2012"; who has been more than just a professor, who teases me about being short and whom I can tease back; and who gives me his words of wisdom about suffering and the meaning thereof, how to deal with it, and the point of the Book of Job.  [More on suffering, Job, and those words of wisdom later.]

That is what I am going to miss most about Christendom, this place where I've spent the 4 best years of my life.  Yes, those years have been stressful: on an academic level, on a friendships/relations level, on a family level.  But I've made friends who, God-willing, will remain friends for the rest of our lives.  I've made friends with professors who encourage me, who tell me that I do have "potential," no matter what my mother says to the contrary, who love me and want me to achieve that potential.

I'm going to miss them.  But first, I'm going to squeeze every bit of enjoyment and appreciation out of these last eight days, and enjoy them to the max, and take advantage of every second I have left here.

God Love you!
[1]"Going therefore, teach ye all nations; baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and behold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the world"--Mt. 28:19-20, Douay-Rheims version.

[2]Dr. McGuire’s definition of a friend.

1 comment:

  1. :-( *sniff* Em! I miss you. :( I refuse to read this for some time. I read a few words, and I'm pretty sure the rest would make me cry.