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.

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.

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...

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.

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.

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!

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.