Monday, October 18, 2021

Coming Home: A Balancing Act of Pain and Joy

A couple of weekends ago, my husband and I had the opportunity to go to Homecoming at my undergraduate alma mater. It was my husband’s first time to see the place I called home for four years—years that exemplified Dickens’s sentiment regarding the best and worst of times. Truly, some of my happiest memories and some of my most painful ones are wrapped up in that little college on the hill—a college whose size was indirectly proportionate to the influence it had on my life.

Although I’ve been away from the school almost twice as long as I was there, this was only my second Homecoming since graduation. That might not seem unusual for most. After all, I’ve rarely personally known adults who return to their alma maters for homecomings unless it’s for a major reunion year, and even rarely then. My bond with my college was different, though, and if going to Homecoming meant seeing beloved professors and dear friends again, then I imagined that I’d be there as often as I could.

But then spring semester of senior year happened, and the school was shaken to its core. I won’t go into details here (although I have written some about it in earlier posts), because it would take an entire book to explain everything that happened. But the result of it all was that by graduation, we knew many of our professors were leaving, and within a year, dozens of faculty and staff who were our teachers, mentors, and friends were no longer there. And many of them left severely hurting. It felt as if the school was left with a giant, gaping hole, and the ones who remained were left to try to hold things together all while dealing with their own grief.

The gut-wrenching, mind-boggling, exasperating, infuriating circumstances of that semester led many in my graduating class to feel like washing their hands of the school forever. The deep love that many of us had for the school persisted, but the pain of seeing it as a shell of what it had been during “the best years of our lives” was just too deep for us to willingly subject ourselves to it again. And yet there were some dear faculty and staff who remained, and it was the prospect of seeing them again—and a few close friends who were going—that led me to go back for Homecoming a year and a half after I graduated.

The emotional and physical reaction of just walking around campus again knowing that there was so much that was unresolved, so much hurt that was being ignored, so many people who should have still been there but weren’t—it was almost overwhelming sometimes, and I left thinking, “Well, I can say I’ve been to Homecoming. I don’t think I’ll be doing that again.” And over the next several years, I didn’t.

But my affection for the school remained, and I couldn’t quite stay away completely, so when I was invited to guest lecture in a class two different years, I gladly accepted, and when I made solo road-trips in summertime, I would make a pit-stop at the home of a professor whose family had become a sort of adopted family for me while I was in school. Each visit was marked by joy that was tainted by pain. Reuniting with loved ones was always joyful, but there was no escaping the ache and sadness.

It wasn’t the nostalgic sadness that any graduated student from any school can expect to feel when they see changes in their alma mater—new buildings, face-lifted facilities, repurposed rooms, etc. Those types of changes are a sign of life. But with each visit in my years as a young alumna, the change I had to confront was the reality that the rippling effects of my senior year were resulting in life being sucked out of the campus, and it felt as if that type of change couldn’t and shouldn’t be accepted as merely part of the normal passage of time.

During my last semester, we often described the once vibrant, sunny campus as being covered by a proverbial thick, dark cloud. You could feel the heaviness in the atmosphere that spring. And when I returned each time after graduation, it was as if the cloud was slowly rolling away only to have a vacuum fill its place instead of the crisp, fresh air of an engaged, invigorated student body and campus community that was a hallmark of most of my time there. When I returned and taught in classes, ate in the cafeteria, walked through the heart of campus, and drove around its perimeter, the vibrancy that had characterized my student experience was missing. Even as new classes of students arrived who had no idea about what had happened a few years before, it seemed as if the deep sense of community (a buzz-word at the college during my time there), of togetherness, of family was gone.

So when we found out we would be able to attend Homecoming this year, I had to emotionally prepare myself to go back. The driving force behind our decision to visit was so that my husband could meet those faculty and friends who are still there and, secondly, so that he could see the campus itself just as I had seen my husband’s a couple of years earlier. Making the decision easier was the knowledge that a much-needed first step toward change in leadership had taken place since my last visit.

This change had prompted alumni of all ages to start discussing re-engaging with the school, with people having differing opinions about whether it was the right time to restart, or in the case of younger alumni, to begin their support. The topic of attending Homecoming was part of that discussion, and again people had mixed feelings. With so much still needing to be addressed, would reinstating financial giving or returning physically to campus convey an acceptance of the wrongs that had been done? Would it give the impression of turning a blind eye to the hurt that so many are still living with four, six, seven years later? These were all legitimate questions, as was the question one friend asked me upon seeing me visibly happy and excited to be on campus, knowing that we both still had so many issues with things that had gone on.

Her question about that weird dichotomy of being happy to be in a place but still deeply saddened by its unresolved issues got me thinking about the importance of balance when it comes to my relationship with my alma mater, which in turn got me thinking about how that balance can be applied to any part of life. It is certainly not healthy to paste on a smile in order to plaster over the serious issues, the legitimate grievances, the deep-seated pain that are prevalent in a given situation. Ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away, nor does the mere passage of time, and it can compound the problem to pretend otherwise. But neither is it healthy to have a laser-focus only on the bad to the point of ignoring the glimpses of hope, the legitimate growth, the deep-seated joy that can be found. Acknowledging the existence of problems doesn’t necessitate refusal to celebrate the good, and there is no point in robbing ourselves of the opportunities to find and give joy even amid suffering.

Living in this dichotomous state can be challenging at times, since we are essentially being pulled between the two extremes of response—in this example, throwing in the towel and walking away forever or pretending the last seven to ten years never happened. But my last visit to campus helped me see that this middle ground is perhaps the healthiest, albeit most difficult, place to be. It is the only ground which honors both our brothers and sisters in Christ who have left and our brothers and sisters in Christ who remain. It is the only ground which gives us space to fully stand up for what is right, which includes both lauding the good and calling out the bad. And it is the only ground from which we can join with those working to rebuild that thriving atmosphere for students by encouraging them to keep up the difficult task of striving for excellence and honoring Christ above all.

My four years at that tiny hilltop school shaped me in ways I am still coming to realize, and I think one of those ways was training me to evaluate the merits of all possible responses to a given situation to arrive at a conclusion that is well-rounded and thoughtful. Ironically, or perhaps fittingly, the very training I received at the college is what helped me arrive at this middle-ground position regarding the school itself, and it is my fervent hope that it can continue to be a place where students can have that intellectually stimulating, socially developing, personally shaping, spiritually deepening, generally invigorating experience that I did.

That’s why I will continue to encourage current faculty and staff by enjoying and not neglecting our friendships. That’s why I will continue to pray for leadership to be filled with godly wisdom, humility, and love for both students and faculty. That’s why I will continue to expectantly watch for the time when I can with a completely clear conscience give financially. That’s why I will continue to pray for healing and for restoration of broken relationships. That’s why I will continue to look forward to the day when young alumni can be fully engaged. Because current students deserve to have all the benefits and resources we had as they prepare themselves to make a difference in the world.

For those of you readers who are part of the college’s family, I pray you will join me in asking God to continue His work to bring redemption and restoration not only for the sake of the many who are hurting but also for the sake of the current student body. And for those who don’t have any connection to the school, I pray you will give thought to areas in your own life where you might be tempted to either sugar-coat the bad or overlook the good and that you’ll seek to find that balanced middle ground where you can honestly acknowledge the pains and the joys and move forward with them both in hand.

The awesome thing about God is that He knows all the bad and all the good of every single situation, and He freely gives His wisdom to those who ask (see James 1:5). So will you join me in asking Him to give us wisdom as we seek to respond to situations from our limited perspective? May He help us learn to see things increasingly as He sees them, and may our posture be one that reflects the goodness and grace of God in Christ Jesus.


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