Calling Together

Tonight is a very special night for me, and I hope for others, and though I’m sure that my little corner of cyberspace is obscure enough that no one I’ll mention, by name or by virtues, will stumble across it, in the interest of keeping the surprise, I will file this away once complete. By the time I retrieve my saved draft, the information will be yesterday’s news.

Tonight is the campus Honors Convocation. This year, as chair of the honors society, I have a fairly large role. In the past, I’ve been mindful to remain humble as I was handed award after award. Great, but this year, I get to do something even greater. I get to welcome everyone and then, in the course of the ceremony, present three awards.

I stayed home today, though there were things I could have done on campus. There is another event I feel is important, for which I could have volunteered time, but I chose to stay home. I have my speeches prepared, my clothes chosen, and in looking back at four years of campus and community service, I felt I could hold back, not dip my greedy little fingers into another pie, stay at home to reflect and maybe even paint my nails.

Nails finished after a sloppy fashion, toes dry enough, I pulled out my old, dog-chewed sandals to take a trip around the back yard – my first of the springtime so far. It’s been plenty warm enough to make that trip sooner, but life and the job of living it have kept me from it.

I used my new walking stick, carved by the brother of a friend. I told myself that part of the reason I turned back so soon was that it will take some getting used to, carrying a big stick like that. I told myself that I needed to build up to it, take short jaunts, and soon I will be traveling the back five acres with ease as I did last summer.

Then I considered other reasons. That maybe I’m a year older, and though still young by most estimates, a little slower, a little softer. That maybe the progression of certain conditions that began last fall, not long after porch sitting was done for the year, are taking more of a toll on me than I’d like to admit. I did feel popping and grinding in my knees and ankles out there. I did have trouble maintaining a grip on the long length of – Ash? Maple? Something heavy.

And it got me back to thinking about why I didn’t go in, put in a few volunteer hours at the event on campus – “Eyes Wide Open: The Cost of War to Pennsylvania.” It’s a worthy event, one I’d be proud to help with. But I didn’t go. Am I losing steam?

I realize I’ve spent four years building a resume of accomplishments that will give me credibility when speaking out on those things that matter to me. I may not have realized that when I first started, but as much as I abhor politics, politics are hard to avoid if one wants to make any impact. I admittedly have trouble working behind the scenes, keeping the faith that my small contributions, when combined with others, make an impact. It’s an ego thing, perhaps. I know that I have a big mouth, and I lean towards big gestures, and in accepting who I am and how I can best serve, I try to gear my efforts in that direction.

There is a woman I’ll be helping to honor this evening who is not like me. She’s been content, in all the time that I have known her, to be the now-proverbial wind beneath the wings of others. All total, she’s receiving three honors, including having one award renamed in her honor. I have written the speeches, and I’m having a little trouble getting through them in my practice without crying. Maybe that’s just the way it’s supposed to be, and I should give up the practice and just let it all hang out. I think that’s what she might advise me to do, if I could ask her without spoiling the surprise.

I also have to wonder, in relation to my short, lone journey to the backyard, if it is possible that, in the contemplation of this woman, in her compassion and humility in her dealings with others, I have learned more than I thought I had. This weekend, if I choose to tear myself away from that last paper and go for a walk, I can ask one or more of my multitude of children, or my husband, to accompany me. When I visited Pittsburgh a couple of weeks ago, I tramped all over creation, but I didn’t notice the distance because I was in good company, talking all the while. Had I been a loner there, which is my bent, I’m sure I would have viewed those same distances as torturous. Maybe, in the spirit of the Burns Award, a mentorship award I received last year and one I will be presenting to my dear friend, Susanne tonight, I should be focusing on others more—rather than the resume-building, trail-blazing path I’ve been on for quite some time now.

I’ll have students of my own this fall. I just ordered two books on teaching composition. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from those books, as well as from the promised week of intense training before classes begin. I do hope that I take the lesson learned from Susanne, that “the individual time one spends with students will in the end matter more than any particular piece of knowledge I could impart in a classroom lecture.”

I now think it’s perfectly acceptable, prudent and wise to change directions once in awhile, especially when one is presented with a superior path to walk.

Till later….