Pre-Digital Footprint

In one of my roles at work, I serve as a mentor to a group of students that are challenged to think about issues of character. This semester's focus is on technology and character, with a close eye on social media. This week, students were asked two questions:

1. What is your digital footprint? In other words, where have you left significant digital traces online?
2. What picture would this paint of you? Do you feel this would be an accurate representation of your "self"?

Although I usually don't respond to these online, these provoked the following response. 
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I have this box in my house. It's filled with hundreds of old black and white photos from my grandparents, some as far back as their newlywed days. I've flipped through the photos more times than I can count. These discussion questions of digital footprint have my thoughts drifting back to when they were young. What footprint did they leave behind?

If I went digging, and I mean really intensely digging, I bet I could find published, public records of these two grandparents. Their birth, marriage, death records. Major purchases. Their number listed in the phone book. Their address in the church directory. Perhaps my papa's business got some local press in the paper. They were not invisible. Their existence left a footprint in the world.

And that box of photos is filled with the happiest of memories. Their first house together. Dinner parties. A new baby. Vacations. All with perfect hair and clean rooms and pretty dresses and happy people. The documented portions of their lives were by no means accurate representation of the lives they lived. They had to have had bad hair days and naughty kids and years where the money didn't allow them to take trips.

So what's the difference? Sure, the medium is different. I couldn't really Google them, per se, like you could Google me. My photos, looking just as put together and accomplished and well traveled as theirs did, aren't in a box. They're in a cloud. My records aren't buried on microfiche. They're floating about it bits and bites online.

The most significant difference as far as I can tell is how the information is transmitted. How and how far. The photos in the box only get seen by the people I show them to. My photos get seen by anyone with adequate Googling ability. Their address was in the church directory. Mine can be found on whitepages.com. When one of them needed to call their second cousin's husband Morty, who picked up Grandma's scarf at a family reunion, they simply asked their sister, who called her cousin, who looked in a notebook, and found Morty's number. If my second cousin Amber picks up my scarf at a reunion, I simply search her name and town to come up with her number. If an employer wanted to know what Grandma was really like before giving her the job at the meat processing plant where she once worked, he called a reference, and that's all he knew. Unless she was in the paper that week for reckless driving. Now, employers, like everyone else, Googles us, finds us on Facebook, looks for our tweets. 

Papa could have published an opinion piece in the paper every week if he wanted to. He could have showed their family photos to everyone who would have stopped to see them. He could have chosen an unlisted phone number or opt out of the church directory. They controlled the footprint that they left. And so do we. But for us, the options are far greater. The reach, much farther. The access, much easier. But we still control it.

I'm not opting out of Facebook anytime soon. My blog and other public displays of my existence on this earth will not be shut down either. These records I'm leaving behind aren't really bad or scary or dangerous. They're just new forms of old footprints. And just as I relish those happy black and white photos of my grandparents, I hope that the footprint I leave behind for my grandchildren brings them joy too. I don't want to be invisible in the world. I leave my footprint for the next generations. And in our world, that footprint just happens to be digital. Who knows what it will be for them.

On Inexperience (or Giant Training)

This morning, in a one-on-one meeting with a colleague, I was faced with a number of suggestions. A little brief context for what it's worth: I am responsible for developing and implementing two courses on campus, both of which have either taken a slow wander of the initial path or leapt off the path on purpose. Add into that the receipt of a grant, some new texts and tools to implement, and you've got one mighty challenge on your hands. 

The initial suggestion was that I pull together a committee to get clarity on the direction that the courses should be going in order to get the framework settled. Again, a little context: we already did that once, and I generally loath writing by committee. I expressed these things in response and was met with yet another suggestion: you create the framework, then present it to the committee. 

The suggestion was probably valid enough save for one thing. The committee of folks that would be pulled together have more years of experience as individuals than years I have been alive. They were the founders, more or less of the courses. I consider them to be the few and mighty that stand in a place of high honor and respect. Doesn't it all seem a little backwards? To send me, who is currently gaining some of her first experiences in the faculty world, into a room of giants with my ideas of what their course should look like? I think people around here exceptionally overestimate my abilities. 

But by the time I got back to my office, something started to sink in a little bit. People are indeed overestimating my abilities, putting me in risky positions of responsibility, directly in the shadows of the giants...because they trust me to do it. And upon further inspection of the idea, is there a better way to learn and grow as a professional than that? These giants are giants in their own rights, but they are caring, nurturing, safe giants who, just maybe, are working on raising up another giant in their midst. 

This particular juncture of my career life is incredibly rich and stuffed full of blessings that until today I was viewing as something equivalent to burdens. I couldn't understand why anyone would want a young-ish, inexperienced professional, still in the throes of her training and education, to take on things that looked like department head work, like experienced teacher stuff, stuff meant for those who have been around the block. But these challenges, these new experiences, these shadows-of-giants encounters are indescribably valuable blessings that are, in fact, preparing me for gianthood. 

So, does it make any sense for me to prepare and present something to the ones that really were the founders of the great things I'm a part of now? Certainly not. Will I accept the responsibility as giant training? With deep appreciation and joy. No longer will I quiver in the shadow of the giants, worrying about every little thing, attempting not to be seen or heard. Instead, from their shadows, I will look up, watch closely, accept criticisms, and allow myself to grow. How thankful I am for the giants around me who care little that I am not yet standing among them. How grateful I am to be given the opportunities to live in their shadows. 

Time to get back to work. There's giant training coming.

Becoming a Better Teacher

I will confess that I often struggle in my role at the university. As an anomaly caught between two worlds, I find myself identifying with faculty as well as with my co-middle managers in the administration. The beginning of this term has me reflecting on my teaching abilities as a faculty member. 

After a month or so of procrastinating the task, last week I finally started unsealing the envelopes that held the student evaluations for the course that I coordinated for the first time this fall. Perhaps I knew to some extent what they might say, and perhaps I already knew that I wouldn't want to see the feedback. 

As a fairly new professor with only a few classes under my belt, I was tasked with developing an entirely new course, one in which 36 other instructors were strung along at my bidding, trying to implement the curriculum that I placed before them. At the time of the tasking, due to the rushed timeline mainly, I didn't really stop to think how daunting something like this might actually be. I didn't consider that the instructors wouldn't like some of it or that the students wouldn't dig into the content. I just frantically pulled together lectures and discussions, readings and writing prompts, mostly as we went along, hoping that it would be met with some level of success. 

And then I opened that first envelope. 

Students were asked what their favorite part of the course was, what they felt they learned the most about, how they identified with the materials and lectures, and what they would change if they could. And boy did students respond. After about the 400th evaluation, I could read no more. I was heart broken and defeated. And I was pretty sure that I never wanted to go in front of a group of students again. I had failed them, and they were disappointed. I showed my true colors of an unprepared, inexperienced novice of an instructor that no amount of bluffing or exuded confidence could mask.

After some time with this crushing blow, and a few meetings with supervisors that offered a much more experienced perspective, I started reading through the evaluations a second time. This time, I took me out of the equation. I filtered the bratty, snide remarks aimed directly at me, and really read what the students were saying. And what I read the second time started to amaze rather than burden me. 

Most students could identify something that they liked about the course. It may have been the comfy chairs in the auditorium, but it was still something. Many students could identify a specific topic or lecture that they enjoyed because of how it spoke to them or how they interacted with the material. Nearly everyone could identify something that they actually learned something about. And almost everyone felt invited into a community of peers and instructors, noting discussions, informality, openness as key traits to that community. A few students indicated that they wanted to dig deeper, to learn more, to discuss more about certain topics. 

Let's be honest, most of the evaluations were definitely negative. But as that inexperienced novice of an instructor, I can choose to view these one of two ways: 1) They hated me and and I'm a bad teacher that isn't worthy to stand in front of students ever, or 2) There are lots of ways that I can improve this course and my teaching to further reach and impact students' lives. Frankly, I prefer the latter. As it turns out, teaching experienced can only beget teaching experience. I was blessed with certain traits, gifts, and abilities that allowed me to gravitate to the field I am in, but it is only with hard earned years of training, critical evaluations, and intentional improvements that I can really become a better teacher. 

I didn't leave the university after all of those bad evaluations which means that I will once again be given the opportunity to develop a curriculum, work with other faculty, and attempt to reach into students' lives with information and knowledge that the university believes to have value. Bad course evaluations are not a weapon. They're a tool. The ability to tell the difference and use them appropriately is what will make me into a better teacher. 

Now, where's my textbook?

Filters (Or Jealousy of the Even-Keeled)

I have had a few bad days in a row at work. Things have frankly just been awful. It seems I can do nothing right. I blow budgets, screw up paperwork processes I've gotten right for years, send out emails incorrectly, miss important phone calls...you get the idea.

And to pile frustration on top of frustration, campus technology issues still plague all that work there, whether it be a slow network, email clients force-quitting countless times a day, laptop hardware issues...things aren't going well. 

All those things together make for a very tense and grumpy Lindsey. And what I have learned, okay, maybe knew all along...what has been exacerbated greatly by the constant dwelling at the end of a rope, is my complete lack of filters to be able to handle things appropriately. Most people would take a little walk, ask calm questions to find reasonable answers, just keep fighting through... Me? I yell...at my boss, at our secretary, at random students. I send inappropriate emails to departments that seem to be the cause of my most miserable state. I cry a little. I fly off the handle, throw a temper tantrum, then yell some more. 

I am not an angry person. I don't have a lot of pent up anxiety or frustrations that I carry with me for days, weeks, years. I am generally full of joy. I consider myself an optimist, for Pete's sake! But when I'm at the end of my rope, I lose control. I can't help but type up a nasty letter in my email and hit send immediately. 

And it's times like these that I look around and see normally functioning adults not doing this as a general rule. Colleagues can sit calmly and have a quiet conversation about the situation at hand while I stand over my boss's desk and throw papers at him. Coworkers can ride out the storm, remaining action oriented and solutions focused while I shoot down every suggestion they may make. 

And frankly, I'm jealous. I'm jealous of whatever filter they have that I lack. The I-won't-blow-up-at-that filter. It's a simple even-keeledness that keeps people from freaking out, that holds their tongues and send-button-pushing-index-fingers back even if they may want to use them. I am not even-keeled. And the last two days, I've really been the very antithesis of  even-keeledness...not a single level-headed moment has come from me in two days. 

Yesterday, on my run, I started to ask God to teach me to be tempered, even, smooth, moderate...but then I stopped and took it all back. When people pray for patience, what does God give them? Situations to practice patience. When people ask for the ability to forgive wrongs, what does God show them? A few more wrongs to forgive. So, noooo, no. No thanks. I do not want to ask for temperance. Not if it means that I will be given more situations to practice such a skill. I don't want to ask for even-keeledness, unruffledness, moderation...because it seems to me that God will certainly provide me with ample opportunities to learn it if I do. And based on my performance over the last two days, I don't necessarily think it's a learnable skill for me. I'll just remain jealous of those that have the ability and rely on them to deal with things when they get really thick. 

(Okay, so I realize that I'm becoming unreasonable here at the end. I really do want to learn these skills. I know several people who are absolutely gifted in this skill, and I need to ask them about it to see if I can learn a thing or two. And, because I know I need to, I will reinstate my retracted prayer for help in this area. Even if I really don't want to have to practice it any more.)

Be careful what you wish for...

I do not know the origins of the phrase, "Be careful what you wish for!" But lately, that phrase has been ringing truer than usual in my life in a number of situations.

The other night, I went on a blind date of sorts - a set up by my next door neighbor. My neighbors are wonderful people who I adore and am very thankful for. But when a neighbor tries to set you up with someone (they've never met), one should not always accept the offer. But I guess I did invite it. I tell all people that know me well that if they know of people that I might get along with, they should introduce us. Perhaps some people are a better judge of personalities than others.  (Long story short, the blind date did not go well...at all. We each brought several friends out for drinks so it was at least low key. But I got a text the following day asking if the friend I brought with me might be interested in a call from him. Neat. And she would not.) I need to be far more careful what I wish for!

At work, I'm getting a new assistant director to help me out with Student Activities. Awesome! But that means that in the next few weeks, I have to figure out how to hire, train, and get fully functioning a whole person...and myself. I can't even get myself organized for the fall most years! I am so very grateful for finally getting the help I so desperately need. I have no idea how I'm going to get everything done before students come back. Lesson learned - I need to be careful what I wish for! 

I'm leaving on vacation in a few days. I love vacation. I love seeing my mom for a few days and my dad for a few days. (No, they're not divorced. We just like to do different stuff together.) I love the challenge of climbing to the tops of mountains and the relaxation of shopping and girl-time. Work is tragically busy right now. I have publications coming out of my ears. I'm way behind. But I want this vacation. Looks like I'll be dragging mass quantities of work along with me to Colorado. Oh, and my house needed some major cleaning before it would meet minimum-mom-standards...so that's what I got to do tonight. Okay, I get it! I guess I should be careful what I wish for! 

This summer is shaping up to be one of the busiest, craziest, most wonderful summers ever. I'm excited, thrilled, calm, tense, and through it all, in remarkably good spirits. I have to keep reminding myself that I indeed did ask for much of what I'm experiencing this summer. I wanted a garden, thus I need to commit to weeding and keeping it nice and canning or freezing everything once it's ready. I wanted some help in the office, so I need to figure out how to get them here and give them a great experience. I want a husband, so I need to learn to take the bad with the good all as a part of the process...either that or figure out how to find him all by myself. 

Perhaps the lesson, "Be careful what you wish for!" is really code for, "For every decision you make, there is a consequence. You're going to have to deal with that." :)

Strangest Analogy Ever

Today, I was offered one of the strangest, but perhaps most apt analogies anyone has ever offered me. A bit of a background story: A colleague/friend and I had just finished up a long, fairly emotional conversation about an issue of which we each had personal conflict with each other. It's been a project we've worked long and hard on together, and in an instant, last week, it all seemed to come to a screeching halt. We didn't talk for nearly a week, but today we got back together. We had to. We had one last meeting before we present the big project to the big wigs on Thursday. So, we came to a resolution together after some soul searching, a few tears, brave moments of honesty, and a certain heartfeltness that only comes from being both friends and coworkers. 

And after it was all done, she says to me, "Well, this is your baby. It has been all along. And you need to think of Thursday like a birthday...your day to deliver the result of all of your hard work to the world. So, take your vitamins, get some sleep, and on Thursday morning, be ready to push." 

At first, I found this analogy to be extremely awkward, but frankly, the more I think of it, the more sense it makes. This last week, I've been all sorts of emotional as things get stretched, stressed, and put to the test here toward the end...having not ever actually been pregnant, I can only assume a certain amount of emotional volatility develops as one nears the end of that long nine month road of developing, protecting, and growing that precious baby. And now, a few days before the big day, I'm getting nervous, excited, anxious to see the result out in front of me, laid out for everyone to see. And the work of getting this whole big project even presented in concept to the big wigs is, well, work. Hard work. Strenuous, nerve-racking, frightening work. A little like labor, right?

So, I guess my friend wasn't all that far off. On Thursday morning, I will have no choice but to be ready to deliver the precious cargo I've been carrying for nearly the last two years. It will be, in no uncertain terms, a very big birthday. 

You know, the metaphor may be right on, but I can't seem to shake the disturbing mental image of me actually giving birth in the conference room with seven or so colleagues and administrators sitting around watching. *Shiver* :)

Restorative Exhaustion

Can there be such thing as restorative exhaustion? A day that makes you feel tired, worn out, and old, but yet somehow fulfilled and restored? This week was a pretty tough week for me, as I reflected last night. But today, in my twelth hour of about sixteen at work, it only takes one student saying, "You really do go above and beyond for us...and I don't know how you do it." or one alum that has heard of my efforts to rebuild the social Greek system at UD and tells me, "It's so great to hear of what you're doing for the Greeks. It really is about life-long friendships." And I somehow feel like last week was kind of worth it. Like it wasn't maybe just so bad. 

And I guess that's what keeps me here, you know? It's that ability to measure the good against the bad, and again and again, determine that it's worth going through. Logical? Probably not. But for the past three years, it's worked. One day it may drive me to absolute insanity, but I guess it works, and it's a risk I'm willing to take. 

"The bigger the change we hope for..."

I am reading a book right now called Culture Making with a group of about thirty-five other faculty and staff members on campus, and so far, I've really enjoyed the beginning of the book. But tonight, while reading through chapter three, I had to stop, reread, star, underline. The author was describing rates of change in culture. He argued that there are different layers of culture that change and impact culture at different rates of speed and significance. For instance, fashion is a part of culture but beyond magazine archives fashion causes no real significant impact. There's no longevity. One day, dark colors and wide flowy pants are the hotest items, and the next, skinny jeans and vibrant florals are in. One fashion statement does not build on a previous to create another. They just come and go as the breeze blows. On the other end of the spectrum, things like government systems provide for some of the slowest but arguably most significant changes to culture and society.

And then I came across the quote that had me starring and underlining and rereading and such: "The bigger the change we hope for, the longer we must be willing to invest, work, and wait for it." For some reason, this struck me as if it was a totally new concept. 

I am working awfully hard to construct new cultural ideas in a campus that seems to so desperately need them. I spend my days correcting foul language, trying to tame wild and unpredictable attitudes about people and services, counseling students through appropriate choices in lifestyle... I expend immeasurable efforts drafting documents, proposals, summary reports, arguments, rallying cries... All of this in an attempt to somehow make the campus a better place to live, to learn, to work, to serve. And I get so darn impatient! I find myself eternally frustrated when asked for yet another revision, or another cyclical conversation, or the many deja vu moments with students repeating myself like a crazed broken record. 

But the change I'm hoping for is big. It's not just a change in a student or two; it's how students live. It's not just trying to make programs better; it's using programs to change lives. All of the work is to make campus somehow better, somehow different from the rest of the world so that the people that leave this place go into the world and make the world somehow better. That's a big change, a big hope. Why would I think it would happen overnight? Why would I be frustrated with small amounts of change, progress, improvement? 

Revolutions and revivals are exciting bursts of activity that make marks in history books for having existed, but they are either not the stand-alone events they appear to be or they are not really all that significant in the long-run. These moments are just the moment that the light switch is flipped and the lights come on. But they usually fail to take into account the countless hours spent wiring the house and checking the circuits that needed to take place for that switch to be flipped. So, I suppose, right now, I need to be okay, or maybe even excited, being the electrician wiring the house knowing that one day the lights will come on. 

The author drove home the point by saying, "Nothing that matters, no matter how sudden, does not have a long history and take part in a long future." (I know, English loving friends, a lot of double negatives going on there...but think about it, would you?) Things that matter come from somewhere and impact something. They can't not. 

On Forgiveness, Confession, and Growth

Because talking about one topic wouldn't seem like rambling enough...

Last night, for the first time, I publicly talked about my battle with bitterness toward my predecessor in a small group. The confession was a terrifying moment for me as I faced a group of students that may look up to me and follow my example. But I could not, in good faith, lead a discussion about forgiveness and keep my dark little secret to myself as if it didn't exist. It was a moment of vulnerability that God provided me the grace to make it through without completely losing it.

This act of confession somehow is changing my heart on the matter all together. I said my predecessor's name aloud tonight to the group. I said that I knew she must be a good person that does good things. I have not been able to do this since I started working at UD. I have humanized her again. She is not the memory that I've held hostage in my mind for so very long. It's as if the act of confession has tipped the scales, and now I can move toward the process of forgiveness. It will not be easy, but at least I've begun the journey.

Lately, as you may have noticed, I have been learning and growing at an incredible rate. As an outpouring of all that growth and learning, I have filled notebooks and blog posts and conversations...I suppose all in an attempt to have landing places for everything that doesn't fit inside my brain once it reaches maximum capacity. Someone noted last night that I appeared to be deeply saddened by something, but it wasn't moments later that I was nearly bursting at the seams with joy and excitement. And I suppose that's what growth looks like...sadness, joy, pain, excitement...all at once. Stretching and examining and being pulled and pushed isn't comfortable, and frankly it's a little messy. But the result is always good. So, stay tuned, as I would imagine that I have much growth to come...messy, painful, joyous, exciting growth.

Watching God Move

Watching God move is a lot like watching the wind. I can't see the wind. I can't watch the air move and flow around me. But I can see the effects of the wind. I can see what it does, what it affects, what it touches. I can see it in the trees, across the water, in leaves rolling down the street. I can hear it through the drafty windows of my old house. I can smell wind traveling along as I get whiffs of neighborhood cookouts or nearby farms. 

How do I know God is moving? I may not be able to see God, but I can see the effects of every wave of His hand, every smile on His face, every nod of encouragement. Over the past two years and a few odd months, I have been blessed to be witness to God moving at the University of Dubuque. 

I have probably told you this before, but when I interviewed at UD for the Director of Student Activities position, I nearly called off the interview because I wasn't feeling too well. I decided that would probably hurt my chances of getting a job, so I fought to get out of bed, take a shower, make myself presentable, and get there on time. I was on campus for over ten hours, attending interviews with students, staff, the president, faculty, the search committee...so many people. I was brought on campus tours, drug to two different evening activities, then finally sent on my way, exhausted. I remember getting in my car and just sitting there with my head against the steering wheel, tears running down my face. In nearly every interview, to nearly every person that asked a question, I had answered, "I don't know," or "I don't really have any experience with that." I felt completed inadequate, uneducated, and inexperienced in just about every way possible. 

I drove home that night feeling like I had blown it completely, but still, there was something resonating in my head, something I couldn't shut off or ignore. Jeff Bullock, the president of UD, had taken time out of his day to meet one-on-one with me, and I had asked him if there was one thing that I needed to know before I left campus that day, what would it be. He paused, leaned back in his chair, looked out the window, and started to smile. He looked back at me and said, "There is something going on here." He continued to say that he didn't know how to put it in any better words than that, but that you could just feel something happening, as if the campus was on the verge of some sort of miracle. And, frankly, after more than ten years of miracles that have kept this place alive, the fact that you can still feel that something is beyond amazing. 

After drying my tears and setting into bed for the night, my heart settled into a new place very quickly as well. Somehow I knew that despite how I thought that interview went that day, there was something that I was supposed to be a part of at UD. It was somewhat laughable that I'd ever end up there based on my performance that day, but I still knew that I was going to end up there somehow, someday. It was only three days later that I received a call asking if I would accept the position. God moved. 

Ever since then, I have been witness to that indescribable something happening on this campus. In two years' time, two campus administrators have been called by God to be here - the Dean of Student Life and the Vice President of Academic Affairs. Both of these men were more than well established in their careers elsewhere. Mick had spent more than twenty five years at UW-La Crosse and assumed he would retire in that beloved city. Mark and Annalee left twenty five years of experience at Trinity Christian College, a community that they had made a significant impact on and that dearly loved them. People like this don't just one day get an itch and pack up and start over. Not on their own. Having only been in any sort of career for five years or so, I can't imagine what twenty five years in one place feels like, but if I were to multiply my feelings for two years here out to twenty five or so, the connections would be nearly unbreakable. But God moves. 

He moves in our hearts, moves in our world, and although I can't see him, look at all the effects! Look at everything He's doing! Something is going on here. God is orchestrating something that is so much bigger than each of us that has been called here could ever accomplish on our own. What an honor to be able to witness the God of the universe moving in the hearts and lives of people right here. 

John 3:8 says, "The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit." And I think what that's saying is that we don't know the plans that God has for us, we can't anticipate or plan for or design lives according to our plans. But the wind does come and go with purpose and direction, just as God moves with purpose and direction. Even if we can't see it or understand it. Today I am overwhelmed by these thoughts. My heart is full with the goodness of God, His very magnificence. Something is going on here.

Fresh Ideas!

A few moments ago, I stepped out of a meeting with some folks from the Academic side of campus and from the Student Life side of campus, and the main goal of that meeting was to identify ways that Student Life and Academic Affairs could collaborate better on campus. Most people that work in higher education are well aware of the huge divide usually found between the two distinct sides of campus. For one reason or another, the two departments just don't jive. Usually one department just doesn't think that the work of the other department is valid for them. But the reality is that the work that both sides are doing are both critically important to students' lives, development, and overall educational experience. Working separately works to some extent. Students get the quality classroom experiences that lead to degrees, and they also get the out-of-class experiences that build up communities and solidify beliefs, values, and overall development into functioning adulthood. 

But what would be the result of truly working in tangent - working together on nearly everything? Is that even a possible ideal? It seems at first glance that certainly it cannot be achieved, but looking deeper into the concept tells me otherwise. Working with the summer Bridge program for the last two summers tells me that the experience that Bridge students are gaining is becoming a coveted experience - something that all students want. Why? Bridge students end up with a confidence regarding their surroundings, their resources, their new community, while also being acclimated to college classroom expectations and assessing their introductory subject knowledge levels. In a few days time, they get the best of both worlds (Academics and Student Life), and the program is seamlessly planned to work together. Mentors selected by Student Life serve in the Bridge class groups. Social activities are attended by faculty who participate and get to know their students outside the classroom. Groups move almost unknowingly from one type of learning to another, and so far, our data shows that it works, although I won't bore you with actual figures to prove it. 

So, what does this mean for the rest of our students? If a third of our incoming students are receiving this intentionally connected Student Life-Academics focused ideal through the Bridge program, then what about the other two-thirds? Can it be done through efforts of New Student Orientation? After leaving today's brainstorming meeting, I am absolutely convinced that it can be done, and be done well. 

My brain feels like it is so full that it may very well be leaking out of my ears right now. I have a thousand questions about what it looks like, how much it costs, who is willing to be involved, how I can sell it to campus, how many people it will take, what kind of impact it can have... I am ready to tear apart all of my original ideas of what New Student Orientation should look like and start completely over. 

I truly believe that this is God's work happening on this campus. He is bringing people together that are sprouting these new ideas and programs that will set this university apart from the rest of the world. We are breaking ground potentially where no other university had dared to go...and if they have, I wish they would post their research! For anyone reading this, this has probably been a pretty boring and not so excited blog post, but it is possibly one of the most exciting things to happen in my work world maybe ever. And I'm ready to dive in head first to fresh ideas, collaborative work, and maybe even some serious research and article writing to top it all off.

Momentous

Tonight, the Department of Student Life did something that, at least to my knowledge, it had never done before. We kicked off student leader and mentor training in an unapologetically  Christian message. We prayed, ate, learned, and played together. And we studied a book of the Bible that has become more and more dear to my heart: Esther. 

I can relate to Esther. She was young, probably not all that wise, and was thrown into a situation that she had no idea was about to come. When I applied at UD, for whatever reason, they took a liking to me. They gave me a chance despite my youth, inexperience, and very apparent lack of wisdom. And since I've been at the college, some amazing and momentous things have been happening around me and with me and through me. And tonight is such a prime example of that. 

I can't help keep thinking...

"For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father's family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?"

What if I had turned down this job for another? Or stayed in my other job? The things happening on this campus may have happened from somewhere or someone else. The transformation of students' lives, Student Life, and the University would have happened in some way. But maybe...just maybe it was meant just for me. The time and the experiences and the growth and the momentous moments were God's desire for me to be in. And that thought keeps me going. God wants me to act, use my gifts, be a part of the action. And I just pray that He can use me like he used Esther - to be brave, to use my gifts, to change lives around me. And I pray that I can get that message out to students - that they can do the same. 

Legacy

"Sometimes it just seems like people work and work and work somewhere, and then they leave. And nobody remembers them. We all just keep moving on like we always have. It makes me wonder why we all work so darn hard."

This is a quote from a woman that I meet regularly with in a prayer group at work. I don't now recall how it even came up, but we were discussing the idea of leaving a legacy. It's been months since this conversation, but her words still haunt me. And the part that haunts me the most is that from her perspective, she was completely right. To build a legacy at a particular place for people to remember you for your good works is completely pointless. People will forget you. Eventually, your memory on this earth will be gone. Work as I may, my work will eventually be changed by someone else, students will graduate, staff and faculty will move on, and I will be forgotten. 

But perhaps we need to view the idea of legacy from a different vantage point. What if we stop working to be remembered by men? What if we did our work for the glory of God? To build God's legacy? It gives reason to work so hard - to pour my heart into the work I do. When I'm gone, all I want is the glow of God's light left in my place. And even when my personal legacy fades into time, God's legacy will live on. That's what I work for.

Unbelief

Despite my best efforts, I cannot recall what "unbelief" feels like. I can't remember my life before Jesus, the time before I knew hope.

This semester, I had a student in the class I taught that believes in nothing beyond the happiness of any given moment. Nothing. No guidance. No example of true love. No hope for what happens next. Nothing. He spent much of the semester adamantly stating his beliefs in nothing, anchoring them in the naivety of religion, the foolishness of allowing something else to determine the path of life. And it was in reading this student's work that I found myself asking questions that his belief in nothing could not explain.

Where did love come from? Granted, many of our human emotions cannot be given an origin, but I cannot imagine understanding love without God's love. We (humans) screwed up God's beautiful place with dark, ugly sin. He could have walked away. He could have left us to our failed selves, to self destruct. But instead He chose to send Jesus, His Son, His Love and rescue us. Without that, how could we know love?

Where is hope found? Family? Friends? Although there is great refuge in these relationships, they bear with them the burden of human nature. They are not perfect. They are not eternal. Stuff? Certainly little explaining is required to know that material possessions cannot sustain and frequently disappoint. The reliability of my own heart or mind? Ha. I don't have near enough faith to place my hope in the stability and strength of myself. What happens when real hope is needed - in moments of desperation? Times where certainty is not just shaky but completely gone? Is there no hope in life at all for the unbelieving? And if there is no hope, how does one force themselves out of bed in the morning knowing that desperation may be the only result of getting up?

These questions and so many more... Never has unbelief so undeniably solidified my belief. And if this makes me a fool or naive, then I'll live life as a fool.

Embrace It or Fight It

Last night, at the Founders' Day Ball, I got a chance to chat up the University President and his wife (always a good idea, as far as I can tell). We discussed a lot of things, but we talked at length about the cyclical nature of higher education. There are times that we just know are going to be killer. Others are traditionally slow. And in my area of higher education, I am certainly no exception.

And Jeff gave me a bit of wisdom that has probably come from ten or so years of rough-edged experience. He said, I suppose you either can embrace it, or spend all your time fighting it. And it's so true. We know that there are going to be extremely busy and stressful times that will require us to stretch just about beyond our means, to the very thinnest we can be pulled. And we can be sure that the slow times will follow full with rest and relaxation. If these things are so certain, then why do we find ourselves whining and complaining when we are in the state of thin? And how can we take for granted the ease of the off-times?

I can try my best to push deadlines back earlier or move projects around on the calendar all I want, but the fact of the matter is the hard, full, busy times are still going to exist, and the slow, restful times will indeed follow. 

I really feel that in the last two years, I have embraced the pattern, although not perfectly by any means. But weeks like list last one (Spring Fling Week) become easier when you can look ahead and see what lies ahead (rest). Although weary, I look ahead with hope...

Strangely, this becomes a metaphor for much more than just my work life. Matt. 11:28 says Come to me all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. The Message paraphrases it this way in verses 28-30:

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly.

So, life really, is of the same cyclical nature.There are times that are going to be hard. We will be weary. We will get worn out. But we know - we know for sure - that there will be rest in Jesus. We can find some rest now in the cycle of living on earth, but there is something much greater, worth getting through the rough and busy that all becomes worth it when we get to the rest. 

Who knew I could get all of that from a conversation with the president at a dance on a Saturday night?

"Doing Church"

Throughout the last semester or so, I've been participating in the gospel choir on campus, an experience that undoubtedly deserves its own post. But there's one thing that I haven't quite figured out how to get past. There's an idea in gospel choir culture called "doing church". A revved up song begins and you can hear someone in the choir say, We're going to show you how to do church today! The enthusiasm is great, but the theology is all wrong.

You see, God doesn't call us to "do church". He calls us to be the church. "Doing church" indicates that it can be something that is started and stopped, picked up and dropped off; it's the idea that church is an action to be done rather than something to be a part of like a finger is a part of a body.

And frankly, I feel like this idea is perpetuated outside of the "church" experience as well. I see students all the time that come to gospel choir rehearsals, pray aloud while holding hands (and twice a rehearsal, mind you), then walk out the doors and immediately say a nasty word to someone, remove one too many articles of clothing, curse like sailors, or cop an attitude. And I suppose, if your idea of church involves the idea of "doing church" then after church has been "done", it can be turned off or left in that room, and life can resume as if nothing ever happened. For those that "do church", it seems that God can only live where church is "done".

But, oh, how visibly He does live there, where church is "done". More than once in any given rehearsal, I can hear someone say, Whew...I feel the Spirit, or, The Spirit is movin' here today, or something to that affect. Peoples' bodies move, their voices escalate, songs grow ever longer...and longer...and longer. Now, please don't misunderstand me here. I do believe that the Spirit can move a person (to dance, to sing, to cry, to whatever...), and I believe that the Spirit can move someone through music. I have been moved by music more times than I can count. But I find it a bit too ironic that the Spirit doesn't move these same people outside of rehearsals or performances in any such visible ways. Does the Spirit only act in a certain way at a certain time?

The picture of church that the Bible paints is drastically different than this idea. 1 Corinthians 12 clearly defines the church like a physical body, and each person having their own gifts like unique body parts. We're interwoven together into a community that is all the time. You can't decide when to "do body". That concept makes absolutely no sense. That's how much sense this whole "doing church" thing makes to me. On the days you decide not to "do body" will you not eat, not sleep, not breathe? Will your heart not beat? See? It just doesn't compute. 

When I first joined the gospel choir, I thought that maybe "doing church" was just cultural, but I've seen it unfold as much more than just a saying that tags along with a exuberant song. And the longer I am in the group, the more it bothers me. These students really believe it's okay to just "do church" at church and not anywhere else. We joke a lot about how the gospel choir needs extra prayer because many times we're not prepared for the performances that we do, but the fact of the matter is that the gospel choir needs prayers that go way beyond the performances...and I'm not sure they'll ever know just how much I pray for them.

There is a Light

As an assignment for the class I'm teaching this semester, I asked each of my students to write a personal belief statement - a credo if you will. In 200 or so words, write something that defines who you are, how you live, your very core.

And frankly, it's not an easy task. How do you boil down your entire life into so few words? I told them to be creative, to let flow whatever came out, but to stay true to themselves and their beliefs. I told them I would participate with them, and this was the result:

There is a Light
There is a Light. There is a Light. There’s a Light inside of me. 

I didn’t create it. It didn’t barge in. I don’t make it brighter. But I know there’s a Light. On my own, all I want is darkness, you see. My heart by itself is a dim, dark place. I am filled with sin and trouble and pain. Ah, but there is a Light.

There is a Light. His name is Jesus. He’s the Light inside of me.

He patiently knocked at the door of my heart. For years and for years, He stood and He knocked. He didn’t give up on my once worthless soul. He holds me, He washes me, He makes me so bright. He loves me as His child. Yes, He is the Light.

He is the Light. My beautiful Jesus. The Light inside of me.

And I can only love because He loved me first. And oh how I love Him. Oh how I love. And I can only shine as a mirror of Him. Chipped. Dirty. Imperfect. But a mirror ever still. A mirror for the Light.

Loving Jesus. Glorious Light. The Light inside of me.

I’ll only shine. I’ll only boast. I’ll only live for the Light. In a world full of hurt and darkness and shame. A world of wandering souls and the lost. I’ll shine on and boast on and live on and fight. Only for the Light.

There is a Light. There is a Light. There’s a Light inside of me.

Haven't Won Yet

Well, it's 12:44 am, and I'm sitting in the rec. center with 28 or so social Greek students, fighting to stay awake as a good example advisor for them, but my heart is a little heavier now than at 4:00 pm. Some of it may just be exhaustion, but some, I feel, it a slight feeling of failure. 

I have worked with the Greek system for over a year and a half, and I certainly have learned a lot...I mean, a lot, in that time. But I still have not found the secret to getting through to them. As of right now, there should be approximately 80 students, and at least nine active organizations, all represented, and actively involved in an athletic event tournament affectionately known as the Greek Olympics. But, as I said, I'm sitting with about 28, nearly all of which are just sitting around.

To make matters worse, most of those that are hear are doing two things that I most certainly do not like: 1) complaining, and 2) talking nasty about each other. First of all, please do not whine that you are tired. You are young, vibrant college students, who, if not given this event as a requirement, would most certainly still be partying, watching tv, or otherwise. I am old(er), and I worked a whole day in my office before I even got here. If I can stay awake, certainly you can. 

But the greater weight on my heart is the negativity and sheer nastiness that resides in the space between each organization (or most organizations). Please tell me what the point is? How can we be so pointlessly cruel and ill intentioned when dealing with each other? Have we not learned that we are only as strong as the parts of the whole? Wouldn't this night be more fun if we tried being uplifting to each other rather than knocking each other down? Wouldn't life in general be a little easier and more fun with this mindset? 

So, whether just tired or truly burdened by this, I sit alone tonight, waiting for 4:00 am to roll around, trying not to let tears fall over how far I have yet to fight this fight for these students to come even close to winning. If only they knew how often I prayed for them...

Aimless Wanderings

As my heart continues to cry out for simplicity in life, it seems that life continues to crank up to yet another gear. The last three days have been one big tornado of chaos and messes, with every little thing turning into an emergency or dilemma to deal with. And although I've cried out to God to calm things down as I know He can, I can't help feel a little guilty for doing it. As we enter the season of lent, I'm reminded of the gravity of Jesus' sacrifice, how much He suffered on my behalf, and I wonder how I can complain.

But nonetheless, I feel strained, stressed, and stretched too thin. And my heart cries for solace, for simplicity, just for a break. A person's mind and body can only take so much before it wants to give up and go to bed. And I've come to realize that the more there is to do, the more chaos there is, the less effective I become at any of it. I lose all sense of direction and aim, and I begin to wander aimlessly. I begin to just toss and arm into the darkness hoping I can manage to catch the break I know is out there somewhere. 

And what's significantly worse, in my opinion, is that, at this pace, in this mode, I am no longer an example that I want anyone to follow. I grow dull and no longer can reflect much of the light of God that I am called to reflect. What kind of witness is that? God has called me to live as the moon, a glowing reflection of Himself, but I'm quite sure that no one sees the moon amidst a tornado. 

So, it's time to remove the guilt of crying out to God. It's time to become real with God, showing Him my whole heart, even if it is exhausted and stretched out. Because clearly, I can't calm the winds, but He can. Clearly, I can't shine myself up to reflect God's light, but He can. I don't want to wander aimlessly anymore. I want to see my Pillar of Fire in the desert and follow every move that He makes. I want to live a life that people want to emulate in order to give God glory. He will give me the strength I need.

7) What are you most afraid of?

I don't know that I realized, when I posted this question to my class, that it was actually an extremely difficult question to answer, not necessarily because I am unaware of my personal fears but because it takes a moment of extraordinary vulnerability to actually express them to someone else. There are some fears, certainly, that are easy to express. My fear of spiders, for instance, is not any unknown fact to most. I make it pretty apparent every time one of those creepy crawly critters makes its way across my desk at work or down the wall at my house. There are many things that I am afraid of that people know about, but when the question of the thing (or things) that I am most afraid of comes up, we're talking about another whole level of fear.

I will begin at a much easier starting place, with some things that I am not afraid of that may make the "most afraid" list for some people.

I am not afraid of what lies ahead in my career path. For some, the question of their life's work, their ultimate career, living in the "right" city, working for the "best" company, is the very obsession and pinnacle point of their lives. The very idea of a career and power, wealth, influence, and being in the "right" place at the "right" time consumes them with terror and worry to get it just "right". This is not something I fear. I have had my fair share of fret on the topic earlier in life, but now, I'm confident in God's leading without question. I have found my calling, and where and how I accomplish that is not a matter of "right" or "wrong". I just keep operating within God's will, and that is enough.

I am not afraid of financial crisis. Often times, for those obsessed with career and life's work, fears of money come next. I know I am well provided for. I have never been in a time of extreme need, by the very grace of God. I am a careful manager and steward of my money, and even if I would end up penniless and poor, God maintains control, and I will not be left alone. I do not fear money.

I am not afraid of bullies. I am not afraid of war. I am not afraid of potential natural or unnatural disasters. I am not afraid of my past. I am not afraid of public speaking. I am not afraid of trying new things.

This is where that moment of extraordinary vulnerability kicks in. You see, I am afraid of being alone. I am afraid of never finding true love, and I am afraid of never having children. Logic and my faith tell me not to be afraid of these things. If I can trust God to lead me in my career, my very life's work, in my money, in many aspects of my life, why can I not trust him with this? He knows the desires of my heart, and He wants my heart to know joy, but what if His plan is different than mine?

This battle is one that I have fought for years. Every day, I have to consiously take off this burdenous chain of fear and hand it to God. Some days, I want to hold on to it. Perhaps the burden isn't so unbearable...I'll just hold on to it for a while. But it is always better in God's hands. If I trust God to provide for me in the ways He sees best in other areas of my life, I must trust Him to take care of me in this aspect. And I know that He will.

So there you have it. I am revealed, exposed, vulnerable to anyone who took the moment to read along. But for those of you who are joining me in this journey, you can now pray for me in my specific fears. And if you have fears, perhaps you could expose them to someone who can pray for you. God is good, and fully worthy of trust. He has given me no reason to doubt. I will be raised up by the faith of others when my faith is not strong enough to raise up myself. Thank you for sharing your faith with me.