Trials and Thanksgivings

Today my thoughts are a jumbled mess of stories floating around in my head. I’ll start from last night. I had my first mini-meltdown of the semester. First, some background: I’ve been fighting off that horrible, overwhelming feeling of stress—the panic that creeps into my mind and takes hold of my heart. It comes on especially when it seems like no matter how much work I do or how disciplined I am—it just isn’t enough.

After my two hour web-site development class, I grit my chattering teeth and made my way over to the library to do research for my Magazine and Freelance writing class. I had spent the last several days trying to come up with ideas to pitch to various magazines, but I must have had brain constipation because nothing fantastic came out.

I spent about an hour looking through a huge stack of magazines in the reading room (which, by the way, is so silent it makes me nervous) before heading to the reference desk to inquire about the whereabouts of the Gale Directory to look up economic data on our magazines.

To my great consternation, I embarked on a wild goose chase for the Gale Directory with a fellow classmate. When we finally hunted down the allusive directory, we discovered that they were not helpful at all. Angry and annoyed at all the time I just wasted, I decided to leave the library and head back to the apartment.

On returning to my room, a flood of tears rushed upon me and I cried uncontrollably. I think the frustration that I had been suppressing for the last three weeks finally caught up to me. Crying can be cathartic. I was so upset that any attempts at doing homework would have been futile.

Here is where my ode begins. My roommates Janelle and Ariel came to comfort me; Ariel heated up a Hot Pocket for me (It was 11 pm and I hadn’t eaten since noon), Janelle let me talk it all out. Because I was so anxious, she recommended that I go to bed and wake up early to finish my work.

I had my doubts about whether or not I could wake up that early, so Ariel volunteered to wake up at six in the morning with me to make sure that I made it out of bed and finished my work. I thank God for the huge blessing that she is in my life. Ariel cared so much about me that, even though she didn’t have class until noon, she willingly helped me wake up before dawn.

Needless to say, I finished my assignment this morning and made it (albeit a little late) to my 7:30 am meeting. Praise God for a wonderful editor-in-chief who brings bagels and orange juice to staff meetings.

Today has been full of laughter and encouragement. During my British mysteries class, we had just finished discussing sexual promiscuity in Dicken’s Bleak House when my friend burst into the class wearing an “I Love Lucy’s” wig and three mismatched layers of clothing.

She confessed her love for her fiancée then handed him a huge, red, heart-shaped box of Russell Stover chocolates and a giant, heart-shaped, singing balloon. The best part, though, was the look on my professor’s face—an amusing combination of confusion and horror.

Speaking of professors, my literary theory professor prayed for us before dismissing us from class, and I realized how much I appreciate that the professors at Biola pray for us. I know that they pray for us on their own time, but I really love hearing them open or close class with prayer.

I think it gives us insight into how they live out their Christian lives even as our professors. We get a short glimpse of their own personal interaction with God: how they come before Him, how they view Him, and how they are seeking His will. The words of their prayer sometimes have more power than anything they say to us during the class period.

I really praise God for my professors, for their passion for their fields of interest, and for their love and care for us. They are such a reservoir of Biblical and practical wisdom, as well a huge source of encouragement for me personally. My professors (ironically) really help me get through some of these difficult times in my life.