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

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.

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.