12. Driving home for the holidays
11. Shopping for unexpected gifts
10. The “present wrapping” party
09. Raiding mom’s homemade chocolate chip cookies
08. Visiting Mike’s Tree Farm
07. Hearing all that Santa has accomplished since sundown
06. Listening to Christmas music
05. Watching “the brothers” bond
04. Hearing Haley say “oh my goodness”
03. Christmas Day with the family
02. Visiting friends without being hurried
01. Waking up with my kids in the house Christmas morning
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
Who says you can't go home?
For better or worse, the first semester is behind me. And (for all professors who may be perusing this blog), I do hope that I get a chance to return for the second semester. Overall, I believe I performed well on the exams, but there are one or two that are haunting me. We have been told (by the upperclassmen) not to expect grades to be posted until mid-January (classes begin on January 22); but, if you have no hopes of returning, you will receive a phone call long before then. So, my prayer is that my phone doesn’t ring.
Of course, as long as I am at my mom’s house (where I am staying during the break), there is no way that I’ll receive a phone call from the law school…or from anyone else. During the break I landed a sweet deal to return to the hometown and work for the former employer, i.e., at the law firm. I was very excited to have the opportunity and left Lynchburg within 24 hours of finishing exams. Who says you can't go home? (Other than Thomas Wolfe...and Bon Jovi.) My hometown is a quaint little place—a tiny dot on the map; but, I am staying at my mom’s, which is 25 miles away from town and an even smaller dot on the map. She lives in a place that we call “the country.” You can follow the map or GPS, but you’ll know you’ve arrived when your cell phone has lost its signal. At that point you can exclaim, “Welcome Home!” Ok, I'm over-exaggerating somewhat. You can get cell phone service, but only in the front yard. So, if you want to make a call, you must go outside and contend with the weather and all of the background noises, e.g., traffic, horns (rednecks love to blow their horns at folks on the phone in the front yard), dogs barking (there is a two dog minimum in the country), and various other farm animals, like roosters, goats, etc. Here, I wish I was exaggerating, but I am not.
I wouldn’t be so enamored with talking on the phone if I could get online and chat with some friends on AIM or Gmail. But, in the country (you guessed it) we do not have Internet. The only thing to do after dinner is to watch tv (whatever the rabbit ears can pick up) or watch each other's hair grow. I actually had a precious conversation with my mom and stepdad the first night I was home about my need for Internet service. My mom was kind enough to call several folks to see if they had Internet and if I could borrow their Internet; and, being country folk, they gladly agreed. I appreciated her effort, but I was certain that somewhere in this small metropolitan area there had to be wireless Internet that I could use without sitting in a stranger's living room. I left the house, with my laptop in tow, and headed for the local library, only to find that it closes at 5:30 (so much for our literacy campaign). I then headed to the local college (which is also my alma mater). The college’s library closes at 8:00 p.m. (which is late for this rural community), but it had no wireless service. I then passed a hotel on the highway, circled back, and pulled up to a room. Sure enough, I could get wireless, but I had to have a password. (So close, but so far away.)
I gave up on the search for wireless in "the country" and decided that I would just stay in town the next night after work and find some wireless in the area. After asking around, I was thrilled to find that my hometown now actually has two Starbucks (which always has wireless, don’t you know!). So, after work, I couldn’t get to Starbucks fast enough. I ordered a Venti Mocha Cappucino (because I planned on staying there a long time), and I popped open the laptop. As my blood pressure started to rise, the waiter explained to me that their Internet service was down. Ugh! So, I packed up and drove to the second Starbucks location in town, but their Internet was down as well. I called a third coffee shop in town—rather than burning another gallon of gas—and they didn’t have wireless, but they told me that Krispy Kreme Doughnuts did have wireless. I was in Krispy Kreme’s parking lot in mere minutes and finally had the wireless connection that I had been searching for for 48 hours. I will be spending a lot of time at Krispy Kreme during Christmas break, and hopefully I can avoid the temptation of the “Hot Doughnuts Now” sign.
Who says you can’t go home again? Of course you can… as long as you can live without your cell phone or Internet.
Of course, as long as I am at my mom’s house (where I am staying during the break), there is no way that I’ll receive a phone call from the law school…or from anyone else. During the break I landed a sweet deal to return to the hometown and work for the former employer, i.e., at the law firm. I was very excited to have the opportunity and left Lynchburg within 24 hours of finishing exams. Who says you can't go home? (Other than Thomas Wolfe...and Bon Jovi.) My hometown is a quaint little place—a tiny dot on the map; but, I am staying at my mom’s, which is 25 miles away from town and an even smaller dot on the map. She lives in a place that we call “the country.” You can follow the map or GPS, but you’ll know you’ve arrived when your cell phone has lost its signal. At that point you can exclaim, “Welcome Home!” Ok, I'm over-exaggerating somewhat. You can get cell phone service, but only in the front yard. So, if you want to make a call, you must go outside and contend with the weather and all of the background noises, e.g., traffic, horns (rednecks love to blow their horns at folks on the phone in the front yard), dogs barking (there is a two dog minimum in the country), and various other farm animals, like roosters, goats, etc. Here, I wish I was exaggerating, but I am not.
I wouldn’t be so enamored with talking on the phone if I could get online and chat with some friends on AIM or Gmail. But, in the country (you guessed it) we do not have Internet. The only thing to do after dinner is to watch tv (whatever the rabbit ears can pick up) or watch each other's hair grow. I actually had a precious conversation with my mom and stepdad the first night I was home about my need for Internet service. My mom was kind enough to call several folks to see if they had Internet and if I could borrow their Internet; and, being country folk, they gladly agreed. I appreciated her effort, but I was certain that somewhere in this small metropolitan area there had to be wireless Internet that I could use without sitting in a stranger's living room. I left the house, with my laptop in tow, and headed for the local library, only to find that it closes at 5:30 (so much for our literacy campaign). I then headed to the local college (which is also my alma mater). The college’s library closes at 8:00 p.m. (which is late for this rural community), but it had no wireless service. I then passed a hotel on the highway, circled back, and pulled up to a room. Sure enough, I could get wireless, but I had to have a password. (So close, but so far away.)
I gave up on the search for wireless in "the country" and decided that I would just stay in town the next night after work and find some wireless in the area. After asking around, I was thrilled to find that my hometown now actually has two Starbucks (which always has wireless, don’t you know!). So, after work, I couldn’t get to Starbucks fast enough. I ordered a Venti Mocha Cappucino (because I planned on staying there a long time), and I popped open the laptop. As my blood pressure started to rise, the waiter explained to me that their Internet service was down. Ugh! So, I packed up and drove to the second Starbucks location in town, but their Internet was down as well. I called a third coffee shop in town—rather than burning another gallon of gas—and they didn’t have wireless, but they told me that Krispy Kreme Doughnuts did have wireless. I was in Krispy Kreme’s parking lot in mere minutes and finally had the wireless connection that I had been searching for for 48 hours. I will be spending a lot of time at Krispy Kreme during Christmas break, and hopefully I can avoid the temptation of the “Hot Doughnuts Now” sign.
Who says you can’t go home again? Of course you can… as long as you can live without your cell phone or Internet.
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Milestones and Exam
This has been a semester of milestones. First, I left my job to pursue the dream of becoming an attorney. This required that I convert from being a college instructor to a college student. Next, I moved from my home to an apartment and from one state to another. What a season of adjustment and milestones. The most recent milestone was December 1, when we (the Class of 2009) completed our first semester of regular classes and began the season of exams. Today, there has been another milestone–the first exam is history (only four more follow).
One thing that I seem to have in common with my classmates is that we did not find undergrad to be very challenging, so we are all amazed at how much we have had to study to simply prepare for daily class assignments. And, now that exam season is here, the studying and stress has intensified.
This past weekend, I did little else except prepare for today’s exam. Monday I attended a special review session offered by the contracts professor. After two hours of contracts review, the remainder of the day was spent in the library studying alone and then with others, quizzing each other, stressing out, sucking it up, and doing it all over again and again. We left the library at midnight, but agreed to meet for breakfast the next morning for some last minute review before the exam. After four hours of sleep, I was back at school. I wish I had time to take a nap (and probably would if I didn’t feel compelled to update the blog), but there is too much to be done. Another exam looms on the horizon, and it is important that every moment be spent in preparation. I also wish I had time to write more, but there is only time for praying, studying, and testing. In my spare time I eat and sleep. For those reading this, please think of me and whisper a pray for stamina, calm, resilience, and a thankful heart for all these many milestones.
One thing that I seem to have in common with my classmates is that we did not find undergrad to be very challenging, so we are all amazed at how much we have had to study to simply prepare for daily class assignments. And, now that exam season is here, the studying and stress has intensified.
This past weekend, I did little else except prepare for today’s exam. Monday I attended a special review session offered by the contracts professor. After two hours of contracts review, the remainder of the day was spent in the library studying alone and then with others, quizzing each other, stressing out, sucking it up, and doing it all over again and again. We left the library at midnight, but agreed to meet for breakfast the next morning for some last minute review before the exam. After four hours of sleep, I was back at school. I wish I had time to take a nap (and probably would if I didn’t feel compelled to update the blog), but there is too much to be done. Another exam looms on the horizon, and it is important that every moment be spent in preparation. I also wish I had time to write more, but there is only time for praying, studying, and testing. In my spare time I eat and sleep. For those reading this, please think of me and whisper a pray for stamina, calm, resilience, and a thankful heart for all these many milestones.
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Thanksgiving
Just when I thought the schedule couldn’t get any busier, it did. We’ve only got one week of classes left before exams. Yes, panic has officially set in. However, it’s a "calm panic" and it’s just enough of a panic to keep me edgy until exams are over. If used properly, it can be a good thing–much like a hedge trimmer. Use it for hedges, great; use it for tree branches positioned over your head, not great.
This week we have had a break from classes, which has been great; I am definitely not complaining. I scheduled specific tasks to complete each day, and also scheduled a brief trip home to see family and friends for the Thanksgiving holiday. When presented the luxury of a break from classes, my gut reaction was that I couldn’t afford to spend two days traveling home when I needed to spend that valuable time preparing for final exams, which sounds so logical when you whip it around in your head; but it sounds so shallow when you try to explain it to your mom! And, now that the trip home is history, and I’m back in Lynchburg with only the company of books, flash cards, notes, and outlines, I realize how much I do miss the simple joy of family and friends.
Driving back up the mountain today I also realized that all of this must maintain its own perspective. Law school is important, but it still only controls a portion of my life. It is a priority; but, when compared to family, it doesn’t even register. It is a dream. It is important to me. But it has its place. How can I be certain? How do I know? Because of a phone call.
I was awakened by the phone at 11:30 p.m. Caller ID said it was my mom. Since my mother rarely stays up past 9:00 p.m., I intuitively knew the news was not good. "We are at the hospital," she said. My son had been in a wreck. He was conscious, but bleeding terribly from the head. He was also complaining of shoulder and leg pain; at the present, he was on his way to x-ray.
Before she even finished these sentences, my mind was racing. I was already calculating how long it would take me to get there. I was planning the ATM stop on the way and thinking about which suitcase to use. On the contrary, I did not think about exams. I did not think about the research paper due on Monday nor did I care about updating my property outline before leaving town.
The hardest thing I had to do for the next hour was wait. I had to wait in the dark while they waited for test results. Even while I was in labor giving birth to that child, time did not creep as slowly as it did that night–18 years later–when I waited to hear what might be broken, whether he would be admitted or released or transferred, and what to do next.
I walked with the phone in my hand--helpless and irritated. The news that finally came was good. I got to hear his voice (which was even better) and know that he was okay. He would be sore and require some follow up, but he would be whole again. All of these events transpired on the eve of Thanksgiving 2006. When I arrived at my mom’s house, I saw the remains of his truck. It was hard to believe that anyone could have survived in that vehicle, especially the driver. He did survive, though, and he was seated at the table next to me.
I was very quiet during dinner. Once again I had been reminded of the frailty of life. But, it wasn’t a lesson in someone else’s life that I had taken note of; no, it was a lesson in my own. I do not know how I will ever react should I have to bury a child. I am almost certain that I will not handle it well (which is a gross understatement). I do not even like to think about it; it is a dreadful thought that no parent wants to ever entertain.
As I looked around the dinner table, I thought about my mother-in-law, who died tragically and unexpectedly in 1994 in a car accident two weeks before Christmas. Across the table from me was my step-sister, who’s husband died only a year ago in a car accident. Seated near me was Aunt Sally, whose son (and my best friend), William, died in a car accident in 1982 at the age of 20 and was buried on my 20th birthday. As if that weren’t tragic enough, she lost her only grandchild/grandson in 2005 in a motorcycle accident, and is helping to raise the children he left behind.
I remembered speaking once at a small law firm event. I was making a presentation to the six or eight paralegals in the firm at a lunch CLE about professionalism. The day before the event, my contact from the office called to finalize the plans, and I vividly recall her telling me about one of the ladies who may be in attendance. The lady had lost her daughter in a car accident a few weeks earlier. The daughter was a senior in high school, driving to school like any other morning when the unthinkable happened, only weeks away from graduation. Now, instead of a diploma and graduation party, she had a funeral and tombstone. My contact said, "She may be here or she may not, but I wanted you to know because she is grieving and quite sullen, and I didn’t want you to take it personally." The lady did attend, and I just remember thinking, "How does she have the wherewithal to roll out of bed in the morning and put one foot in front of the other? Anything above and beyond that is absolutely heroic."
I am nothing short of amazed that these survivors can go through the routine of Thanksgiving (and other holidays). If yesterday’s accident had taken my son, I just do not know if I could go on with life as usual, ponging from one season, holiday, or birthday to the next. It must be possible, because so many people do it. Or, maybe it’s just because we don’t hear about those who give up, check out on life, or crawl under the proverbial rock.
What morbid thoughts to be having at Thanksgiving dinner, huh? Yes, I know. However, the irony of it all is that they made me even more thankful for this moment and this day that we all get to share together when we have the opportunity to reach out to each other, touch someone's hand or tap someone on the shoulder, and whisper "I love you." The stark reality–of which I have been reminded–is that there is no guarantee that we’ll have the same opportunity tomorrow.
This week we have had a break from classes, which has been great; I am definitely not complaining. I scheduled specific tasks to complete each day, and also scheduled a brief trip home to see family and friends for the Thanksgiving holiday. When presented the luxury of a break from classes, my gut reaction was that I couldn’t afford to spend two days traveling home when I needed to spend that valuable time preparing for final exams, which sounds so logical when you whip it around in your head; but it sounds so shallow when you try to explain it to your mom! And, now that the trip home is history, and I’m back in Lynchburg with only the company of books, flash cards, notes, and outlines, I realize how much I do miss the simple joy of family and friends.
Driving back up the mountain today I also realized that all of this must maintain its own perspective. Law school is important, but it still only controls a portion of my life. It is a priority; but, when compared to family, it doesn’t even register. It is a dream. It is important to me. But it has its place. How can I be certain? How do I know? Because of a phone call.
I was awakened by the phone at 11:30 p.m. Caller ID said it was my mom. Since my mother rarely stays up past 9:00 p.m., I intuitively knew the news was not good. "We are at the hospital," she said. My son had been in a wreck. He was conscious, but bleeding terribly from the head. He was also complaining of shoulder and leg pain; at the present, he was on his way to x-ray.
Before she even finished these sentences, my mind was racing. I was already calculating how long it would take me to get there. I was planning the ATM stop on the way and thinking about which suitcase to use. On the contrary, I did not think about exams. I did not think about the research paper due on Monday nor did I care about updating my property outline before leaving town.
The hardest thing I had to do for the next hour was wait. I had to wait in the dark while they waited for test results. Even while I was in labor giving birth to that child, time did not creep as slowly as it did that night–18 years later–when I waited to hear what might be broken, whether he would be admitted or released or transferred, and what to do next.
I walked with the phone in my hand--helpless and irritated. The news that finally came was good. I got to hear his voice (which was even better) and know that he was okay. He would be sore and require some follow up, but he would be whole again. All of these events transpired on the eve of Thanksgiving 2006. When I arrived at my mom’s house, I saw the remains of his truck. It was hard to believe that anyone could have survived in that vehicle, especially the driver. He did survive, though, and he was seated at the table next to me.
I was very quiet during dinner. Once again I had been reminded of the frailty of life. But, it wasn’t a lesson in someone else’s life that I had taken note of; no, it was a lesson in my own. I do not know how I will ever react should I have to bury a child. I am almost certain that I will not handle it well (which is a gross understatement). I do not even like to think about it; it is a dreadful thought that no parent wants to ever entertain.
As I looked around the dinner table, I thought about my mother-in-law, who died tragically and unexpectedly in 1994 in a car accident two weeks before Christmas. Across the table from me was my step-sister, who’s husband died only a year ago in a car accident. Seated near me was Aunt Sally, whose son (and my best friend), William, died in a car accident in 1982 at the age of 20 and was buried on my 20th birthday. As if that weren’t tragic enough, she lost her only grandchild/grandson in 2005 in a motorcycle accident, and is helping to raise the children he left behind.
I remembered speaking once at a small law firm event. I was making a presentation to the six or eight paralegals in the firm at a lunch CLE about professionalism. The day before the event, my contact from the office called to finalize the plans, and I vividly recall her telling me about one of the ladies who may be in attendance. The lady had lost her daughter in a car accident a few weeks earlier. The daughter was a senior in high school, driving to school like any other morning when the unthinkable happened, only weeks away from graduation. Now, instead of a diploma and graduation party, she had a funeral and tombstone. My contact said, "She may be here or she may not, but I wanted you to know because she is grieving and quite sullen, and I didn’t want you to take it personally." The lady did attend, and I just remember thinking, "How does she have the wherewithal to roll out of bed in the morning and put one foot in front of the other? Anything above and beyond that is absolutely heroic."
I am nothing short of amazed that these survivors can go through the routine of Thanksgiving (and other holidays). If yesterday’s accident had taken my son, I just do not know if I could go on with life as usual, ponging from one season, holiday, or birthday to the next. It must be possible, because so many people do it. Or, maybe it’s just because we don’t hear about those who give up, check out on life, or crawl under the proverbial rock.
What morbid thoughts to be having at Thanksgiving dinner, huh? Yes, I know. However, the irony of it all is that they made me even more thankful for this moment and this day that we all get to share together when we have the opportunity to reach out to each other, touch someone's hand or tap someone on the shoulder, and whisper "I love you." The stark reality–of which I have been reminded–is that there is no guarantee that we’ll have the same opportunity tomorrow.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
This one is for you
You know who you are. You listen to my rantings. You take my calls. You celebrate with me when I am triumphant. You laugh with me when I am absolutely foolish! You see me in all of my failures and faults...and still support me anyway.
I couldn’t do any of this without your support. I pretend to be independent and self-sufficient. I am none of those things. I am frightened and afraid. I am second-guessing myself, and I am even sabotaging my own success.
You do not “sugar coat” your observations. You ask hard questions. You will not accept generic, “softball” answers. You are not intimidated by my defensive tactics.
I am a mess. I am in way over my head. I handle stress poorly. I am fulfilling a dream and scared to death of it.
You point me to the positive rather than the negative. You talk me off of the ledge.
This is for you. You are my friend. I am indebted.
I couldn’t do any of this without your support. I pretend to be independent and self-sufficient. I am none of those things. I am frightened and afraid. I am second-guessing myself, and I am even sabotaging my own success.
You do not “sugar coat” your observations. You ask hard questions. You will not accept generic, “softball” answers. You are not intimidated by my defensive tactics.
I am a mess. I am in way over my head. I handle stress poorly. I am fulfilling a dream and scared to death of it.
You point me to the positive rather than the negative. You talk me off of the ledge.
This is for you. You are my friend. I am indebted.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Now Showing: Autumn Mornings
Nature puts on quite a show in October. The mountainside becomes a palette and every leaf is a brush stroke. Pictures and videos pale in comparison to a first-hand experience of the mountains during peak season.
It's a glorious show in the late afternoon, while the sun is setting over the distant Blue Ridge Mountains. All of the remaining light is flooding onto the lower hills and valley; there is a colorful competition between sky and earth. Mid-day is beautiful as well. Every tree dances with color. To say that it's distracting is an understatement.
But, my favorite time of day is the morning. I usually get to watch it unfold from my bedroom window. There may be dew or a light frost. The air is crisp and the ground is scattered with leaves that have fulfilled their purpose. Typically, a pot of coffee is brewed by 5:30 a.m., and I sip the first cup while preparing for the day's classes--all while seated at the desk at my bedroom window.
I rarely listen to the radio or watch tv at this time of the morning. I suppose, instead, I am listening for the sunrise. From my window I first see a few of the rays as they illuminate behind the hills and then begin to peak over the trees. But, long before the sun makes its grand appearance, there is a light show reflected against clouds and trees. There are reds and yellows, purple and blue.
If I had no other evidence in the entire universe that there is a God, this alone would be enough. It seems to take much more faith to believe that these beautiful, natural masterpieces just occur by happenstance, than to acknowledge that there is a Supreme Being who orchestrates the entire show on a daily basis, complete with sunlight, clouds, mountains, shadows, and leaves of gold and red.
I realized recently that some of the first words that I speak every morning are a critique of the sunrise. Let's face it, I have very little to say in the morning; there's no one to listen except the dog and cat. But, as I am finishing that first cup of coffee and about to head for the shower, I feel compelled to take one more peek out the window and audibly say something like "Nice," or "Awesome!"
Like this morning; it was more than a sunrise--it was a show so beautiful that the window just couldn't contain it. I found myself outside soaking in every nuance of the canvas. It was above me, and around me, and before me. It was so truly breathtaking; and--with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face--all I could say was "Show off!"
Luke 12:27
It's a glorious show in the late afternoon, while the sun is setting over the distant Blue Ridge Mountains. All of the remaining light is flooding onto the lower hills and valley; there is a colorful competition between sky and earth. Mid-day is beautiful as well. Every tree dances with color. To say that it's distracting is an understatement.
But, my favorite time of day is the morning. I usually get to watch it unfold from my bedroom window. There may be dew or a light frost. The air is crisp and the ground is scattered with leaves that have fulfilled their purpose. Typically, a pot of coffee is brewed by 5:30 a.m., and I sip the first cup while preparing for the day's classes--all while seated at the desk at my bedroom window.
I rarely listen to the radio or watch tv at this time of the morning. I suppose, instead, I am listening for the sunrise. From my window I first see a few of the rays as they illuminate behind the hills and then begin to peak over the trees. But, long before the sun makes its grand appearance, there is a light show reflected against clouds and trees. There are reds and yellows, purple and blue.
If I had no other evidence in the entire universe that there is a God, this alone would be enough. It seems to take much more faith to believe that these beautiful, natural masterpieces just occur by happenstance, than to acknowledge that there is a Supreme Being who orchestrates the entire show on a daily basis, complete with sunlight, clouds, mountains, shadows, and leaves of gold and red.
I realized recently that some of the first words that I speak every morning are a critique of the sunrise. Let's face it, I have very little to say in the morning; there's no one to listen except the dog and cat. But, as I am finishing that first cup of coffee and about to head for the shower, I feel compelled to take one more peek out the window and audibly say something like "Nice," or "Awesome!"
Like this morning; it was more than a sunrise--it was a show so beautiful that the window just couldn't contain it. I found myself outside soaking in every nuance of the canvas. It was above me, and around me, and before me. It was so truly breathtaking; and--with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face--all I could say was "Show off!"
Luke 12:27
Sunday, October 15, 2006
The power of the word
I recently commented to a professor that it seems I have to “work twice as hard to learn half as much,” which is not a complaint but just a matter of fact. This is not true, and I wondered where the comment came from. I am not half as smart as my classmates, just twice as old. Frankly, I am amazed that these young people know, at the age of 22, what they want to do for the rest of their life. At 22, I did not.
I remember taking some standardized test in high school that could forecast whether you were college material. At the appointment to review my test results, the evaluator said that I would do well in blue collar work or possibly as a secretary. Basically, I was told that I didn’t need to waste time and money trying to go to college because it would be “too much” for me. Why amass all of that debt to simply fail?
So, what did I do? For many years I followed the course of action set out for me by this test and evaluator. (Surely they were smarter than I.) First, I worked in a fast food restaurant and worked my way into management (woo hoo!). Then I attended the local community college and earned a degree in secretarial science (graduating with honors, Mr. Test Evaluator). At 21 years of age I was perfectly happy to have achieved all that I was able to do (as per the test results). Fortunately, the evaluator didn't have the last word.
When I went to work as a legal secretary (in 1985), my boss was a young sole practitioner named Tom Barwick. At the time that Tom hired me I was working as a secretary at the local country club. It was a mindless job that basically entailed typing daily lunch menus and party contracts, totaling receipts, and making reservations. I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do (as per the test results) and was apprehensive about working for a lawyer. But, he was young and nice (and a friend of my husband’s), so the switch was made.
From the first day Tom didn’t just give me work to do, but he made me part of his team. We were a team of two, so I was expected to do more than mindless work. I was expected to think and do. He didn’t just want me to know about the files, but to know about the law. After less than a year of working with him, I vividly recall the conversation we had one day while traveling from an interview, when he mentioned to me the possibility of attending school to be a paralegal. Obviously he didn’t know my test results, and I didn't dare break the news to him. With his support, I completed the paralegal degree (graduating with the highest GPA in my class) and worked for many years alongside him. As a matter of fact, we joined a firm, developed a niche, and worked together for 15 years.
Shortly before he left the firm in 2000, we had another memorable conversation late one afternoon in his office where he encouraged me to go to law school. This wasn't a flippant remark made to boost my ego, but a serious conversation about changing the direction of my career and life. He knew that I could do it. He wanted me to try. I could say that he planted a seed, but the seed was already there. All he did was water it and give it some sunshine.
From that day on a plan was set in motion. There were things that I needed to do before I could ever complete law school, like finish my bachelor's degree (Summa Cum Laude). It was almost six years after this conversation that I stepped into Day One of law school orientation. But Tom Barwick brought me here figuratively just as assuredly as if he had driven the moving van. In spite of the evaluation of my test results, I graduated from college at the top of my class, and I am nine weeks into year one of law school.
For Christmas this year I’d like two gifts. One, I’d like to find and frame those standardized test results from high school. Two, I’d like to give Tom Barwick a hug. Both are testaments to the power of the word.
I remember taking some standardized test in high school that could forecast whether you were college material. At the appointment to review my test results, the evaluator said that I would do well in blue collar work or possibly as a secretary. Basically, I was told that I didn’t need to waste time and money trying to go to college because it would be “too much” for me. Why amass all of that debt to simply fail?
So, what did I do? For many years I followed the course of action set out for me by this test and evaluator. (Surely they were smarter than I.) First, I worked in a fast food restaurant and worked my way into management (woo hoo!). Then I attended the local community college and earned a degree in secretarial science (graduating with honors, Mr. Test Evaluator). At 21 years of age I was perfectly happy to have achieved all that I was able to do (as per the test results). Fortunately, the evaluator didn't have the last word.
When I went to work as a legal secretary (in 1985), my boss was a young sole practitioner named Tom Barwick. At the time that Tom hired me I was working as a secretary at the local country club. It was a mindless job that basically entailed typing daily lunch menus and party contracts, totaling receipts, and making reservations. I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do (as per the test results) and was apprehensive about working for a lawyer. But, he was young and nice (and a friend of my husband’s), so the switch was made.
From the first day Tom didn’t just give me work to do, but he made me part of his team. We were a team of two, so I was expected to do more than mindless work. I was expected to think and do. He didn’t just want me to know about the files, but to know about the law. After less than a year of working with him, I vividly recall the conversation we had one day while traveling from an interview, when he mentioned to me the possibility of attending school to be a paralegal. Obviously he didn’t know my test results, and I didn't dare break the news to him. With his support, I completed the paralegal degree (graduating with the highest GPA in my class) and worked for many years alongside him. As a matter of fact, we joined a firm, developed a niche, and worked together for 15 years.
Shortly before he left the firm in 2000, we had another memorable conversation late one afternoon in his office where he encouraged me to go to law school. This wasn't a flippant remark made to boost my ego, but a serious conversation about changing the direction of my career and life. He knew that I could do it. He wanted me to try. I could say that he planted a seed, but the seed was already there. All he did was water it and give it some sunshine.
From that day on a plan was set in motion. There were things that I needed to do before I could ever complete law school, like finish my bachelor's degree (Summa Cum Laude). It was almost six years after this conversation that I stepped into Day One of law school orientation. But Tom Barwick brought me here figuratively just as assuredly as if he had driven the moving van. In spite of the evaluation of my test results, I graduated from college at the top of my class, and I am nine weeks into year one of law school.
For Christmas this year I’d like two gifts. One, I’d like to find and frame those standardized test results from high school. Two, I’d like to give Tom Barwick a hug. Both are testaments to the power of the word.
Saturday, October 07, 2006
Eight weeks later...
I am numb. My fingers are tingling. My head hurts--probably because my brain is throbbing, if that is possible. But, the good news is, mid-term exams are history. All that we must do now is wait for the grades.
It has been a very long week. Everyday we had to prepare for class while simultaneously trying to find a few hours to study for exams. For most of the week I spent 18-20 hours at school and only came home to sleep, shower, change clothes, and take care of the pets. But for the pets, I would have probably just lived in the library. There were study groups and private study sessions and roundtable discussions and tutorials and still not enough hours in the day to get it all done.
A good friend asked me if I'd given this 100%, and I had to admit that I had not. I suppose the evaluation is subjective, though; yet I do not think I have given it my all. Granted, I have given a lot, but not my all. For instance, I do not come home every night and review the day's notes and lectures. I do not prepare flash cards on a daily basis. I have made little use of the CALI exercises (which are awesome), and I have only listened to about one of the instructional CDs that I checked out of the library (I have downloaded 20+.) And I do not spend the weekend reviewing flash cards and outlines of the previous week's material for each class. If I had done all of this, I then could say that I had given 100%. But, I'm just not sure when I would have slept. Right now, I'm averaging about four hours per night. There just aren't enough hours in the day to do all that is required as well as all that is suggested.
We've now completed mid-term exams and eight weeks of our first semester of law school. One of the professors quipped "Congratulation on being 1/12 of the way through." There is something to be said about that, especially in light of the fact that at least three of my classmates have already said they will not be back in January--if they even stay through December.
But I am looking at mid-terms as a place to start rather than a place to stop. I believe that these exams were a gift. They showed me where my outlines have failed. They have shown me where I need to improve, and they have given me eight more weeks to get my notes and materials in order before the final exams are knocking at the door.
Frankly, I feel good about what I did today. I don't think I knocked any of them out of the park, but I was comfortable with most subjects so that I could provide a multi-layer answer. Now that the exams are over it's time to take a break, catch my breath, let the body have a few hours to recover, and then get busy.
I hope you'll continue to accompany me on this journey.
It has been a very long week. Everyday we had to prepare for class while simultaneously trying to find a few hours to study for exams. For most of the week I spent 18-20 hours at school and only came home to sleep, shower, change clothes, and take care of the pets. But for the pets, I would have probably just lived in the library. There were study groups and private study sessions and roundtable discussions and tutorials and still not enough hours in the day to get it all done.
A good friend asked me if I'd given this 100%, and I had to admit that I had not. I suppose the evaluation is subjective, though; yet I do not think I have given it my all. Granted, I have given a lot, but not my all. For instance, I do not come home every night and review the day's notes and lectures. I do not prepare flash cards on a daily basis. I have made little use of the CALI exercises (which are awesome), and I have only listened to about one of the instructional CDs that I checked out of the library (I have downloaded 20+.) And I do not spend the weekend reviewing flash cards and outlines of the previous week's material for each class. If I had done all of this, I then could say that I had given 100%. But, I'm just not sure when I would have slept. Right now, I'm averaging about four hours per night. There just aren't enough hours in the day to do all that is required as well as all that is suggested.
We've now completed mid-term exams and eight weeks of our first semester of law school. One of the professors quipped "Congratulation on being 1/12 of the way through." There is something to be said about that, especially in light of the fact that at least three of my classmates have already said they will not be back in January--if they even stay through December.
But I am looking at mid-terms as a place to start rather than a place to stop. I believe that these exams were a gift. They showed me where my outlines have failed. They have shown me where I need to improve, and they have given me eight more weeks to get my notes and materials in order before the final exams are knocking at the door.
Frankly, I feel good about what I did today. I don't think I knocked any of them out of the park, but I was comfortable with most subjects so that I could provide a multi-layer answer. Now that the exams are over it's time to take a break, catch my breath, let the body have a few hours to recover, and then get busy.
I hope you'll continue to accompany me on this journey.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Four-letter words
It has been a while since I have been able to update my blog, which is indicative of a few things. Certainly there has been a sharp increase in the workload, and I took a short trip home this past weekend to celebrate my son’s birthday. Both of these things have kept me away from other trivial pursuits, but let me tell you a little about the trip.
When I say "short," I am not exaggerating. The one-way trip is 200 miles or 3.5 hours. On Saturday morning I loaded up the dog, cat, and my daughter (who is a sophomore in college) and we headed home. The dog, cat, and college kid slept for most of the ride--at least until the sun came up–and I got to spend some time reflecting on the past five weeks, this new experience, and this new life that has taken me so far away from home.
Home is one of my favorite words. There are so many memories and ideals wrapped up in that one syllable, four-letter word. I can smell home. I know its temperature and dimensions. I know how tall the grass is at home. How horrible it must be to be homeless. One of the few perks of moving away is the joy in coming home, looking at the old neighborhood, being greeted in the driveway by the family who has waited for your arrival, and spending a few precious moments with those you left behind. There was plenty of that on Saturday. The day was filled with some of my favorite homes. Every home was different, but every homecoming was the same. There were front porch greetings, lots of hugs, some tears, and way too much food.
Certainly everyone needs a certain amount of food to survive, but I can’t imagine any culture getting more comfort from food than we do. Regardless of the event–birthday, wedding, ball game, surgery, or death–we surround it with food. The only way to explain it is “It’s a Southern thing.”
Just some of the food on my mom’s table Saturday night included ham, chicken pastry, squash fritters, fresh corn, fresh green beans, potato salad, deviled eggs, collards, biscuits and cornbread–not to mention dessert. Earlier in the day I had visited Phyllis and family; and, of course, we had to have a piece of apple cake before we left. Sunday morning I met my son for breakfast (more food), and then as we were about to leave town, Carol (my neighbor) brought some of her famous vegetable beef soup for me. All three are wrapped tight together: home, food, love.
More importantly, though, there were the hugs and love that we were able to share with our family, friends, and neighbors. It was so good to reach out and touch those people who know you as well as you know yourself. While I take full advantage of e-mail and cell phone service, there is nothing that can replace the power of a hug. So, our stomachs were filled with our favorite southern delicacies, but our hearts were filled with the love from those who are so precious to us. And, yet, we were home for less than twenty-four hours, so there were many people that we couldn’t see in that time frame. It was good to visit with so many and sad that we couldn’t stay longer.
The return trip–of 200 miles–began Sunday morning, less than 24 hours after we had arrived. We left before sunrise (again), and the scenario unfolded much the same in the return trip, i.e., the college kid, dog, and cat slept while I drove. I thought about those that I couldn’t see while making this quick trip and I wished I could have spent more time with those that I did see. I hope that there will be a time in the near future when we will get to visit until our hearts are full.
There’s nothing spectacular about this posting. It is filled with simple four-letter words. While I readily admit that law school is expanding my vocabulary, it is these one syllable, four-letter words that hold such significant meaning, like hope...wish...food...love...hugs...and home. These four-letter words should have a special place in your vocabulary and in your heart. I hope they do.
The final few four-letter words that I must address tonight are “read” and “work,” which are terrible utterances to use after discussing such happy subjects, but they bring me back to reality and the asset that I must manage wisely: time. Good night.
When I say "short," I am not exaggerating. The one-way trip is 200 miles or 3.5 hours. On Saturday morning I loaded up the dog, cat, and my daughter (who is a sophomore in college) and we headed home. The dog, cat, and college kid slept for most of the ride--at least until the sun came up–and I got to spend some time reflecting on the past five weeks, this new experience, and this new life that has taken me so far away from home.
Home is one of my favorite words. There are so many memories and ideals wrapped up in that one syllable, four-letter word. I can smell home. I know its temperature and dimensions. I know how tall the grass is at home. How horrible it must be to be homeless. One of the few perks of moving away is the joy in coming home, looking at the old neighborhood, being greeted in the driveway by the family who has waited for your arrival, and spending a few precious moments with those you left behind. There was plenty of that on Saturday. The day was filled with some of my favorite homes. Every home was different, but every homecoming was the same. There were front porch greetings, lots of hugs, some tears, and way too much food.
Certainly everyone needs a certain amount of food to survive, but I can’t imagine any culture getting more comfort from food than we do. Regardless of the event–birthday, wedding, ball game, surgery, or death–we surround it with food. The only way to explain it is “It’s a Southern thing.”
Just some of the food on my mom’s table Saturday night included ham, chicken pastry, squash fritters, fresh corn, fresh green beans, potato salad, deviled eggs, collards, biscuits and cornbread–not to mention dessert. Earlier in the day I had visited Phyllis and family; and, of course, we had to have a piece of apple cake before we left. Sunday morning I met my son for breakfast (more food), and then as we were about to leave town, Carol (my neighbor) brought some of her famous vegetable beef soup for me. All three are wrapped tight together: home, food, love.
More importantly, though, there were the hugs and love that we were able to share with our family, friends, and neighbors. It was so good to reach out and touch those people who know you as well as you know yourself. While I take full advantage of e-mail and cell phone service, there is nothing that can replace the power of a hug. So, our stomachs were filled with our favorite southern delicacies, but our hearts were filled with the love from those who are so precious to us. And, yet, we were home for less than twenty-four hours, so there were many people that we couldn’t see in that time frame. It was good to visit with so many and sad that we couldn’t stay longer.
The return trip–of 200 miles–began Sunday morning, less than 24 hours after we had arrived. We left before sunrise (again), and the scenario unfolded much the same in the return trip, i.e., the college kid, dog, and cat slept while I drove. I thought about those that I couldn’t see while making this quick trip and I wished I could have spent more time with those that I did see. I hope that there will be a time in the near future when we will get to visit until our hearts are full.
There’s nothing spectacular about this posting. It is filled with simple four-letter words. While I readily admit that law school is expanding my vocabulary, it is these one syllable, four-letter words that hold such significant meaning, like hope...wish...food...love...hugs...and home. These four-letter words should have a special place in your vocabulary and in your heart. I hope they do.
The final few four-letter words that I must address tonight are “read” and “work,” which are terrible utterances to use after discussing such happy subjects, but they bring me back to reality and the asset that I must manage wisely: time. Good night.
Monday, September 04, 2006
BLS: Before law school
Once upon a time I was an avid reader. That was BLS.
Avid [av-id] Adj. 1. Enthusiastic; ardent; dedicated; keen; 2. keenly desirous; eager; greedy.
Yes, that was me! I subscribed to three daily newspapers (News-Argus, N & O, and WSJ), at least six monthly magazines (Forbes, Oprah, Biography, Reader's Digest, CCM, Business 2.0, Newsweek,etc.), and received daily updates from Word-A-Day, Lawyers' Weekly, CourtTv. I subscribed to webzines, list serves, and blogs (of course). I took my kids to the library on a weekly basis so that they, too, would enjoy the world of words and appreciate where they could take you.
That was BLS. Now I am the inimical reader.
Inimical. [i-nim-i-kuhl] Adj. 1. Adverse, contrary, opposed to
I do not even want to read street signs. The scrolling news across the bottom of CNN...totally ignored. It's just mumbo jumbo to me.
The sheer amount of reading that has to be--as in MUST BE--completed each day is overwhelming. After a mere three weeks of reading assignments, if all of the pages were combined into one volume, I dare say it could rival War and Peace.
I realized the extent of this new aversion to words today. When I left campus after class...completely famished, of course. So, my first stop is an eatery. The only rule? I do not want to go some place new where I would be required to (1) read the menu; (2) compare choices; (3) analyze the cost versus content argument; and (4) make a decision. So, I stop at the same cafeteria and basically eat the same or similar lunch selection. No words or reading required; just point to the food picture and it appears on your plate.
This new status as the inimical reader has me annoyed with the former avid reader who did not take advantage of every (or most) opportunities to read for pleasure...the sheer joy of reading. The stacks of books on my shelves that will probably not be touched for years are just mere memorials of the once avid reader who lived here. But that was BLS. How sad a demise.
There's about a hundred pages of reading for tonight's assignments, and probably just as much for tomorrow night's. The inevitable cannot be delayed for more than a few moments. The clock is ticking and tomorrow is only hours away. Whether I sleep or eat is optional; but I must read. Time to turn the page...
Avid [av-id] Adj. 1. Enthusiastic; ardent; dedicated; keen; 2. keenly desirous; eager; greedy.
Yes, that was me! I subscribed to three daily newspapers (News-Argus, N & O, and WSJ), at least six monthly magazines (Forbes, Oprah, Biography, Reader's Digest, CCM, Business 2.0, Newsweek,etc.), and received daily updates from Word-A-Day, Lawyers' Weekly, CourtTv. I subscribed to webzines, list serves, and blogs (of course). I took my kids to the library on a weekly basis so that they, too, would enjoy the world of words and appreciate where they could take you.
That was BLS. Now I am the inimical reader.
Inimical. [i-nim-i-kuhl] Adj. 1. Adverse, contrary, opposed to
I do not even want to read street signs. The scrolling news across the bottom of CNN...totally ignored. It's just mumbo jumbo to me.
The sheer amount of reading that has to be--as in MUST BE--completed each day is overwhelming. After a mere three weeks of reading assignments, if all of the pages were combined into one volume, I dare say it could rival War and Peace.
I realized the extent of this new aversion to words today. When I left campus after class...completely famished, of course. So, my first stop is an eatery. The only rule? I do not want to go some place new where I would be required to (1) read the menu; (2) compare choices; (3) analyze the cost versus content argument; and (4) make a decision. So, I stop at the same cafeteria and basically eat the same or similar lunch selection. No words or reading required; just point to the food picture and it appears on your plate.
This new status as the inimical reader has me annoyed with the former avid reader who did not take advantage of every (or most) opportunities to read for pleasure...the sheer joy of reading. The stacks of books on my shelves that will probably not be touched for years are just mere memorials of the once avid reader who lived here. But that was BLS. How sad a demise.
There's about a hundred pages of reading for tonight's assignments, and probably just as much for tomorrow night's. The inevitable cannot be delayed for more than a few moments. The clock is ticking and tomorrow is only hours away. Whether I sleep or eat is optional; but I must read. Time to turn the page...
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Arrogance 101
After a single week of law school I have already unraveled a mystery. Working with lawyers for most of my professional life, I have often been perplexed by the arrogance and superiority that emits from many in the legal profession. (Before proceeding, please note that I said "many" and not "all." If you are not one of the many, then please do not take offense.) When I finally decided to apply to law school and was ultimately accepted, I often joked that I would let my friends and colleagues know when I had completed Arrogance 101. Certainly it must be a class? Or tested on the bar exam? Otherwise, why would so many lawyers--who before were just average Joes--transform into these condescending, opulent creatures with more money than personality after appending "Esq." to their name?
After attending a week of orientation, which required reading, writing and studying; and after the initial shock of the workload required before we ever stepped into our first class, and after being challenged to "think on my feet" during the first day of class, I think I am getting a glimpse of where and when the arrogance takes root. It is here. It is in the process; in the tremendous amount of study, preparation, and writing that must take place to even show up for class. Because, if you're not prepared, you are told, "Don't show up." Oh, and by the way, if you miss too many classes, don't bother coming back. So, you can't miss class, but you can't show up unprepared. Thus, you must be prepared, which requires an inordinate amount of preparation on a nightly basis--just to stay caught up. I am not alluding to reading ahead or tweaking notes or extra curricular activities. No; the workload to simply stay caught up--i.e., ready for the next class--is overwhelming. After investing this amount of time, energy and effort into this goal; after losing sleep and skipping meals; after watching the world from a window while reading or writing or thinking or stressing; after getting up while it's dark and going to bed while it's dark--or not going to bed at all, I suppose that is where the transformation begins. It's in paying the dues, increasing in knowledge, and realizing that you can read, understand, and apply the law, which is one of the most powerful skills in our society. And this knowledge and power, coupled with the price you've paid to attain it, makes you feel superior.
Please do not read what I have not written. I certainly do not condone this attitude. Personally, I believe it is evidence of a shallow soul. I do not believe that one person is superior to another based on the trappings of society, academia, or pop culture. Once again, I do not believe that all lawyers or law students are guilty of this offense; but, to avoid its appeal takes great effort of self-control and inspection.
As for me, there are some wonderful people that I left in behind in rural North Carolina that I hope (in fact, I know) will "set me straight" (a great Southern phrase) should I get too big for my "breeches" (it's a Southern thing). And, I'd be willing to give them all permission to do so; but, truth be told, none of them need permission to remind me of who I am and how I got here, and most of them wouldn't ask for permission anyway. And that's fine with me.
The first week of law school is history. Ninety-five weeks to go before graduation; 105 weeks before the bar exam; and 113 weeks before the bar exam results.
After attending a week of orientation, which required reading, writing and studying; and after the initial shock of the workload required before we ever stepped into our first class, and after being challenged to "think on my feet" during the first day of class, I think I am getting a glimpse of where and when the arrogance takes root. It is here. It is in the process; in the tremendous amount of study, preparation, and writing that must take place to even show up for class. Because, if you're not prepared, you are told, "Don't show up." Oh, and by the way, if you miss too many classes, don't bother coming back. So, you can't miss class, but you can't show up unprepared. Thus, you must be prepared, which requires an inordinate amount of preparation on a nightly basis--just to stay caught up. I am not alluding to reading ahead or tweaking notes or extra curricular activities. No; the workload to simply stay caught up--i.e., ready for the next class--is overwhelming. After investing this amount of time, energy and effort into this goal; after losing sleep and skipping meals; after watching the world from a window while reading or writing or thinking or stressing; after getting up while it's dark and going to bed while it's dark--or not going to bed at all, I suppose that is where the transformation begins. It's in paying the dues, increasing in knowledge, and realizing that you can read, understand, and apply the law, which is one of the most powerful skills in our society. And this knowledge and power, coupled with the price you've paid to attain it, makes you feel superior.
Please do not read what I have not written. I certainly do not condone this attitude. Personally, I believe it is evidence of a shallow soul. I do not believe that one person is superior to another based on the trappings of society, academia, or pop culture. Once again, I do not believe that all lawyers or law students are guilty of this offense; but, to avoid its appeal takes great effort of self-control and inspection.
As for me, there are some wonderful people that I left in behind in rural North Carolina that I hope (in fact, I know) will "set me straight" (a great Southern phrase) should I get too big for my "breeches" (it's a Southern thing). And, I'd be willing to give them all permission to do so; but, truth be told, none of them need permission to remind me of who I am and how I got here, and most of them wouldn't ask for permission anyway. And that's fine with me.
The first week of law school is history. Ninety-five weeks to go before graduation; 105 weeks before the bar exam; and 113 weeks before the bar exam results.
Saturday, August 19, 2006
America's Best Colleges
Orientation is over. Next week, it's the real thing. In the interim, I have a tremendous amount of reading to do, which makes me wonder, why am I spending precious time with my blog? Answer: To keep me centered and sane.
According to statistics from the ABA, the student workload at LU School of Law is in the top 1% of all ABA-approved law schools. For example, at most law schools the 1Ls are taking three classes; some are taking four. I am taking six. You know, if we had to be No. 1 (or close to it), I would prefer it be in athletics. ;-)
There are benefits to this rigorous schedule. They have been explained, and I agree with the logic. So, it's time to get to work and quit whining.
In the meantime, in case you haven't heard, Liberty University has made the 2007 edition of America's Best Colleges published by U. S. News & World Report. That's impressive for a school that's less than 40 years old. I have copied below an excerpt from commentary by Jerry Falwell on www.worldnetdaily.com with more details:
On newsstands this week, U.S. News & World Report's 2007 edition of "America's Best Colleges" highlights three universities: UCLA, Cornell and Liberty. It is truly an honor for Liberty to be featured in this manner, especially when one considers that Cornell (which started in 1865) and UCLA (which started in 1919) have been around for so long.
The USN&WR article, titled "They Pray as they Go," is very complimentary. It underscores Liberty's rules (no co-ed dorms, no drinking or smoking, etc.) and features interviews with some of our students and faculty, including Dr. Ergun Caner who calls an education at Liberty "Green Beret training for Christians."
The article also focuses on things that make Liberty unique: dorm prayer groups, a Christian environment (even in the classroom) and our university debate team (which is No. 1 in the nation in all three national debate tournament polls, which no other school has ever achieved).
Some may be amazed that, in just 35 years, Liberty has risen to such a prominent position in the world of higher education.
Another great feature of Liberty is its diversity. With no quotas or affirmative action in place, we will welcome this fall students reflecting many cultures, backgrounds and ethnicities. In fact, our student body includes young people from 83 nations. Our students are connected by one common goal: to impact the world with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
As a result, Liberty continues to rapidly grow. This summer, we built five new apartment-style dorms, which house 420 students. We will quickly begin more new dorms this fall and are mapping out designs to open more classroom space.
Readers who would like to see the article in full should purchase the 2007 edition of "America's Best Colleges," now on newsstands.
According to statistics from the ABA, the student workload at LU School of Law is in the top 1% of all ABA-approved law schools. For example, at most law schools the 1Ls are taking three classes; some are taking four. I am taking six. You know, if we had to be No. 1 (or close to it), I would prefer it be in athletics. ;-)
There are benefits to this rigorous schedule. They have been explained, and I agree with the logic. So, it's time to get to work and quit whining.
In the meantime, in case you haven't heard, Liberty University has made the 2007 edition of America's Best Colleges published by U. S. News & World Report. That's impressive for a school that's less than 40 years old. I have copied below an excerpt from commentary by Jerry Falwell on www.worldnetdaily.com with more details:
On newsstands this week, U.S. News & World Report's 2007 edition of "America's Best Colleges" highlights three universities: UCLA, Cornell and Liberty. It is truly an honor for Liberty to be featured in this manner, especially when one considers that Cornell (which started in 1865) and UCLA (which started in 1919) have been around for so long.
The USN&WR article, titled "They Pray as they Go," is very complimentary. It underscores Liberty's rules (no co-ed dorms, no drinking or smoking, etc.) and features interviews with some of our students and faculty, including Dr. Ergun Caner who calls an education at Liberty "Green Beret training for Christians."
The article also focuses on things that make Liberty unique: dorm prayer groups, a Christian environment (even in the classroom) and our university debate team (which is No. 1 in the nation in all three national debate tournament polls, which no other school has ever achieved).
Some may be amazed that, in just 35 years, Liberty has risen to such a prominent position in the world of higher education.
Another great feature of Liberty is its diversity. With no quotas or affirmative action in place, we will welcome this fall students reflecting many cultures, backgrounds and ethnicities. In fact, our student body includes young people from 83 nations. Our students are connected by one common goal: to impact the world with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
As a result, Liberty continues to rapidly grow. This summer, we built five new apartment-style dorms, which house 420 students. We will quickly begin more new dorms this fall and are mapping out designs to open more classroom space.
Readers who would like to see the article in full should purchase the 2007 edition of "America's Best Colleges," now on newsstands.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Never let anyone steal your dream
If you read the initial post (August 9) you certainly could appreciate the questions and turmoil that were keeping me up at night. I heard a preacher recently say that it's not a sin to question God because even Jesus asked "Why?" during the crucifixion. So, I don't mind asking God questions (Is this the right decision? What if I fail? What if the money runs out? Etc.) and then trying to be patient while He provides an answer.
Only a few days after vocalizing these questions, I received cards from two friends (Camille and Carol) that were so encouraging. Yes, I checked the postmark, and the cards were mailed the day before and the day of the initial posting. I think that's rather amazing, i.e., that God knows the questions of our heart before we even ask it AND puts the answer in motion before the question is penned.
The next "answer" to my questions was received on Saturday, August 12, as I was enjoying a cup of coffee on the patio. I picked up a pamphlet produced by a favorite radio station of mine (KLOVE) and these are the words I read:
When you dream you move closer to the way God sees things; you see beyond your limitations; you move from where you are to where He wants you to be; you begin to see your goals in their completed state. The question isn't can you dream, but do you have the courage to act on it? If your dream doesn't stretch you to the point of discomfort it's probably not of God. Furthermore, God won't miraculously lift you out of your dream and set you down in the middle of its fulfillment . . . We need to get up every morning with our eyes on our destiny and move steadily toward it. Now for a warning: someone will always try to steal your dream. Always! Often it'll be someone who never had a dream of their own, or if they did they abandoned it. It could even be a family member who reminds you of what God couldn't or wouldn't do through someone like you. What do you dream about? What has God enabled you to see that doesn't yet exist? You'll never out-dream God! "God can do . . . far more than you can ever imagine." Eph. 3:20.
Wow! I know that's a bit lengthy for a quote, but it was so powerful that it just blew me away. I had to read it over and over, and now have a copy of it attached to the frig (where all important paperwork is filed). I hope that it is encouraging to you as well.
My name is Jackie. I am a 1L at Liberty University School of Law. Last night we enjoyed a semi-formal reception with the Interim Dean of the law school, Mr. Matt Staver, and today was Day 1 of orientation. It has been a long day. A lot has been accomplished, and two more days of orientation await. But, today was special because it was a first. It wasn't about an entrance exam, or an application, or a law school visit; it was the day that the dream became a reality.
I am the first to admit that there have been times when I have struggled with this dream. It seems so much bigger than me (and, of course, it is). It has overwhelmed me more than once, and I have ran away from it on more than one occasion. But, it never went away. It didn't hunt or pursue me; it just patiently waited for me to grow up and grow into this idea that I can be so much more than even I see. And how can I say that? Because, it is not me; it is God doing far more than even I could ever imagine. Pardon me for saying it twice, but Wow!
Only a few days after vocalizing these questions, I received cards from two friends (Camille and Carol) that were so encouraging. Yes, I checked the postmark, and the cards were mailed the day before and the day of the initial posting. I think that's rather amazing, i.e., that God knows the questions of our heart before we even ask it AND puts the answer in motion before the question is penned.
The next "answer" to my questions was received on Saturday, August 12, as I was enjoying a cup of coffee on the patio. I picked up a pamphlet produced by a favorite radio station of mine (KLOVE) and these are the words I read:
When you dream you move closer to the way God sees things; you see beyond your limitations; you move from where you are to where He wants you to be; you begin to see your goals in their completed state. The question isn't can you dream, but do you have the courage to act on it? If your dream doesn't stretch you to the point of discomfort it's probably not of God. Furthermore, God won't miraculously lift you out of your dream and set you down in the middle of its fulfillment . . . We need to get up every morning with our eyes on our destiny and move steadily toward it. Now for a warning: someone will always try to steal your dream. Always! Often it'll be someone who never had a dream of their own, or if they did they abandoned it. It could even be a family member who reminds you of what God couldn't or wouldn't do through someone like you. What do you dream about? What has God enabled you to see that doesn't yet exist? You'll never out-dream God! "God can do . . . far more than you can ever imagine." Eph. 3:20.
Wow! I know that's a bit lengthy for a quote, but it was so powerful that it just blew me away. I had to read it over and over, and now have a copy of it attached to the frig (where all important paperwork is filed). I hope that it is encouraging to you as well.
My name is Jackie. I am a 1L at Liberty University School of Law. Last night we enjoyed a semi-formal reception with the Interim Dean of the law school, Mr. Matt Staver, and today was Day 1 of orientation. It has been a long day. A lot has been accomplished, and two more days of orientation await. But, today was special because it was a first. It wasn't about an entrance exam, or an application, or a law school visit; it was the day that the dream became a reality.
I am the first to admit that there have been times when I have struggled with this dream. It seems so much bigger than me (and, of course, it is). It has overwhelmed me more than once, and I have ran away from it on more than one occasion. But, it never went away. It didn't hunt or pursue me; it just patiently waited for me to grow up and grow into this idea that I can be so much more than even I see. And how can I say that? Because, it is not me; it is God doing far more than even I could ever imagine. Pardon me for saying it twice, but Wow!
Thursday, August 10, 2006
The initial post
I am old. (Correction: I am feeling old.) And I am very tired (no correction necessary); yet, I cannot sleep. Why? Feeling old and being tired should be the perfect recipe for a good night's rest. What could keep me from sleep? That's exactly what this blog is about tonight, tomorrow, and hopefully for the next three years.
It seems like yesterday it was a beautiful dream, a goal, a frontier to conquer. Now, it is keeping me up at night; and, at my age, I can't afford to lose any more sleep. So, let's just cut to the heart of it and put it on the page. My sleeplessness tonight (and many others) is caused by my returning to school. You see, I am less than one week away from beginning law school. I will be a 1L. I have dreamed of being a lawyer all of my adult life, and the journey will begin in a few days with my status as a 1L. But, it wasn't an easy road to get here (and who knows what lies ahead). My little town didn't have a law school close by, so I had to move. Actually, my school of choice was located in another state (which will be revealed in time). So, there's a "for sale" sign in the front yard (of a house yet to be sold), the children have been shoo'ed out of the house a few weeks before their college requires, and I have packed up all of my earthly goods and moved to an apartment in another state where I know absolutely no one. (Actually, I realized tonight that I had gone the entire day without speaking a word! You know, when there's no one to talk to, there's really not a lot to say.) I could--and have--talked to the dog and cat, but they are not great conversationalists.
My undergrad is in criminal justice. I worked in a law office for many years. And, most recently, I have taught legal courses at a community college. I am accustomed to teaching 18, 20, and 22 year olds; now I'll be in class with them. I will be their classmate, the antediluvian law student going to law school to pursue this dream of not just "working with" attorneys or teaching "about" the law.
"That's wonderful!" is the typical reply received from friends and acquaintances. "You'll do fine!" is another one. And, thank God for their encouragement; yet, with only a week to go, I am wondering. What was I thinking? Dreaming! At my age! Is this the right decision? What if I fail? Will I ever pay off the student loans? What if the money runs out? Who will want to hire me? Questions, questions, concerns, and more questions. I'm counting questions instead of counting sheep; thus, the lack of sleep.
I learned about blogging while at an educator's conference this spring. I have since started reading some blogs of interest to me and decided it might be something I want to do to memorialize this experience. This is the first posting. For better or worse, there will be more. And I hope you will join me.
Writing has always been cathartic for me; I hope this blog will be just the medicine I need in order to clear my head, and the motivation I need to chart my course and conquer the unknown. Youth and vitality are not on my side; but law school is a marathon, not a sprint, and I am hopeful that I can stay in the race and finish the course. I do not have to win; I just want to finish. It's going to be a long run, so let's get some rest.
It seems like yesterday it was a beautiful dream, a goal, a frontier to conquer. Now, it is keeping me up at night; and, at my age, I can't afford to lose any more sleep. So, let's just cut to the heart of it and put it on the page. My sleeplessness tonight (and many others) is caused by my returning to school. You see, I am less than one week away from beginning law school. I will be a 1L. I have dreamed of being a lawyer all of my adult life, and the journey will begin in a few days with my status as a 1L. But, it wasn't an easy road to get here (and who knows what lies ahead). My little town didn't have a law school close by, so I had to move. Actually, my school of choice was located in another state (which will be revealed in time). So, there's a "for sale" sign in the front yard (of a house yet to be sold), the children have been shoo'ed out of the house a few weeks before their college requires, and I have packed up all of my earthly goods and moved to an apartment in another state where I know absolutely no one. (Actually, I realized tonight that I had gone the entire day without speaking a word! You know, when there's no one to talk to, there's really not a lot to say.) I could--and have--talked to the dog and cat, but they are not great conversationalists.
My undergrad is in criminal justice. I worked in a law office for many years. And, most recently, I have taught legal courses at a community college. I am accustomed to teaching 18, 20, and 22 year olds; now I'll be in class with them. I will be their classmate, the antediluvian law student going to law school to pursue this dream of not just "working with" attorneys or teaching "about" the law.
"That's wonderful!" is the typical reply received from friends and acquaintances. "You'll do fine!" is another one. And, thank God for their encouragement; yet, with only a week to go, I am wondering. What was I thinking? Dreaming! At my age! Is this the right decision? What if I fail? Will I ever pay off the student loans? What if the money runs out? Who will want to hire me? Questions, questions, concerns, and more questions. I'm counting questions instead of counting sheep; thus, the lack of sleep.
I learned about blogging while at an educator's conference this spring. I have since started reading some blogs of interest to me and decided it might be something I want to do to memorialize this experience. This is the first posting. For better or worse, there will be more. And I hope you will join me.
Writing has always been cathartic for me; I hope this blog will be just the medicine I need in order to clear my head, and the motivation I need to chart my course and conquer the unknown. Youth and vitality are not on my side; but law school is a marathon, not a sprint, and I am hopeful that I can stay in the race and finish the course. I do not have to win; I just want to finish. It's going to be a long run, so let's get some rest.
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