Well, a whole semester has gone by without so much as a little post to this blog! I have been longing to update it!
The first semester of seminary was rough. Honestly, I think the first season after coordinating NYC would have been rough anywhere. Coordinating NYC was likely one of the greatest things I'll do in my lifetime. I believe, God-willing, that I still have many adventures ahead, but that was a unique, grand blessing on my life. How do you follow that? I wasn't trying to follow it up, but transition in any season is hard. This one was particularly hard.
This season of moving, starting seminary, starting a part-time job, and learning how to survive (is that over-dramatic, I don't think so) was intense. I cried every week of the fall semester. Every. Week. It was an anomaly if I went 7 days straight without crying. Why was I crying all of the time? I was learning how to be just Katie. I was learning how to be a good seminary student. I was navigating a new city. I was working a new emotionally demanding job. I was figuring out a new relationship. The rawness of the new grated against me month after month as leaf upon leaf fell from the trees outside my window. Seminary is where I am supposed to be, I reassured myself. I knew that much at least, even if I couldn't remember if I took 9th street or 11th street to get to Aldi. (Aldi: an exceptionally inexpensive, grocery store.)
Planning worship for the seminary community was one thing that kept me going this semester. It was the Patterns of Worship class that reassured me that this is where I am supposed to be, where my passion lies. It required the most from me, but it was also the class that made my heart dance listening to lectures about the liturgical calendar and hospitality in worship. It was in writing prayers for this class, that I found myself uplifting prayers for what I was struggling with (patience for trying children, a swift end to the violence in Nigeria.) It gave voice to what my heart couldn't speak eloquently to herself.
I am still here. If all goes according to plan, I am 1/6th of the way through seminary. A new season of seminary is starting: my second semester. With this semester, comes choosing my year-long placement, another history of Christianity class, securing a summer job, and hopefully a chapel service for which I'll worship lead. I am here. My purpose for being here is not yet completely clear to me. In a broad sense, intentional preparation for ministry, but what form will that take is not clear to me, yet. I can now easily find my way to Aldi: may the path before me become more familiar with each step I take.
The first semester of seminary was rough. Honestly, I think the first season after coordinating NYC would have been rough anywhere. Coordinating NYC was likely one of the greatest things I'll do in my lifetime. I believe, God-willing, that I still have many adventures ahead, but that was a unique, grand blessing on my life. How do you follow that? I wasn't trying to follow it up, but transition in any season is hard. This one was particularly hard.
This season of moving, starting seminary, starting a part-time job, and learning how to survive (is that over-dramatic, I don't think so) was intense. I cried every week of the fall semester. Every. Week. It was an anomaly if I went 7 days straight without crying. Why was I crying all of the time? I was learning how to be just Katie. I was learning how to be a good seminary student. I was navigating a new city. I was working a new emotionally demanding job. I was figuring out a new relationship. The rawness of the new grated against me month after month as leaf upon leaf fell from the trees outside my window. Seminary is where I am supposed to be, I reassured myself. I knew that much at least, even if I couldn't remember if I took 9th street or 11th street to get to Aldi. (Aldi: an exceptionally inexpensive, grocery store.)
Planning worship for the seminary community was one thing that kept me going this semester. It was the Patterns of Worship class that reassured me that this is where I am supposed to be, where my passion lies. It required the most from me, but it was also the class that made my heart dance listening to lectures about the liturgical calendar and hospitality in worship. It was in writing prayers for this class, that I found myself uplifting prayers for what I was struggling with (patience for trying children, a swift end to the violence in Nigeria.) It gave voice to what my heart couldn't speak eloquently to herself.
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