Faded from the Winter

See, I told you I'd be back.

I feel ridiculous realizing how long it's been since I posted my last entry. I sincerely apologize to anyone who has actually been waiting to hear more.

I am now in my second semester of graduate school here in Chattanooga. Last semester started with a lot of excitement, sunk to a bit of boredom in the middle, and ended in a frantic rush at the beginning of December. With a sigh of relief and a new 4.0 (It's back! But don't get too attached...), I thoroughly enjoyed my Christmas vacation at home with loved ones.

January, of course, came all too soon, and so I find myself back in Chattanooga. This semester seems worlds away from the last. My classes are more enjoyable, but also a lot more demanding, which is always a blessing and a curse at the same time. Here is my class schedule:

• Monday nights: Genre in American Literature: The Novel

American Lit has never really been my forte--I am naturally drawn to the Brits most of the time. However, the reading for this class is wonderful and I'm getting the opportunity to experience novels that have been on my "must read" list for years. We've so far read The Scarlet Letter (again... yes... turns out it's actually fantastic, despite what you thought in high school), The Rise of Silas Lapham, The Ambassadors (yikes... I was planning to be all scholarly and love James... but I don't know. It was the most laborious read of my life), and I'm currently revisiting The Great Gatsby (which is always a pleasure). The class actually focuses more on important critical trends and the nature of the genre itself, rather than being a survey of a bunch of novels, so I'm also reading a lot of criticism which is always fun. I think this will be my most challenging class.

• Tuesday afternoons: Appalachian/Environmental Literature

I love this class. I love this class. It's exactly what it sounds like: literature from and about Appalachia, with an environmental focus. We read a novel a week (although sometimes it's a travel journal or other non-fiction book. I, of course, prefer the fiction.) and write a short paper every week, which is a huge pain, but it really aids class discussion and I think it's great practice for me (further re-enforcing my ability to crank out a well-rounded, fully supported essay). I've been joking with everyone that I'm going to come out of this class as a tree-hugger, but in the best way possible. It's been both enjoyable and eye opening to learn more about the world around me and the effect my actions have on the places I inhabit. Reading people like Wendell Berry and Ron Rash has encouraged me to develop a more holistic theology of place. Recognizing that the Chattanooga, Tennessees and Blairesville, Georgias of this world will one day be resurrected in the new heavens and earth certainly makes you think more deeply about the way we alter and scar our landscapes. Basically, I'm much keener on the idea of place--being connected with your physical surroundings and being responsible in your lifestyle. I'm not planning to stop shaving my legs and start living in a tent, but I have come to esteem deliberate simplicity.

• Thursday nights: Modern Rhetorical Theory

Don't ask me what this class is about. I still don't know. I have a certain number of Rhetoric credits to fulfill, and that is the only reason I signed up for this class, thinking to myself, "maybe I'll finally grasp what 'rhetoric' actually is." Unfortunately, the discipline of rhetoric appears to be not much more than sociological analysis sans the whiff of science, and rhetorical theory is apparently a group of people who are all trying to define exactly what rhetoric is. In other words, the discipline exists to define itself... And that's about all I've gathered so far. It's theory, so I can handle that (to an extent... and then my brain explodes), but I am clearly on a different wave-length from everyone else in the class. I. A. Richards is right: true communication is an impossibility. ;)

Other than school, I still work 10 hours a week for Dr. Sachsman in the Communications department and 10 hours a week for Dr. Rehyansky in the English department. I'm still going to North Shore every Sunday, singing now and then, and enjoying a growing sense of community with my small group. I still have the most wonderful and caring boyfriend that ever existed, which is an incredible blessing, and I wish I could say that I have a plethora of friends, but I do have a few dear friends in the area.

God and I are having a lot of conversations about my future these days. Well, mostly I'm asking Him what on earth He wants me to do and waiting to hear His answer. Although I still plan to apply for doctoral programs and hope to teach university level english classes some day, that dream is getting less simple by the day. For one, I am having trouble imagining actually getting a Master's degree, much less a Doctorate. The sheer work that lies ahead is daunting and discouraging, and it's difficult to remain confident at times when I feel so essentially insufficient. Furthermore, life as a post-graduate student is something that you can never be prepared for, no matter how much people tell you to brace yourself. The frustration of constant, ever-present work, when others can compartmentalize their lives into career and leisure is acute. Yes, what I'm saying is that I am lazy, and I hate having to work when other people relax. This becomes extremely difficult, however, in times when I am discouraged with school and struggling to find deep meaning in my studies. At those times, my life can appear somewhat empty. God and I have been discussing my need for joy and purpose in my work a lot too. I remain confident that He is in control and knows my every need.

And, believe me, if there's one thing I am aware of these days, it's my need. Living alone has effectively lost any glitter it once had. I am now confronted with hours and hours by myself in a cold apartment with only books and my own insufficiency for companions. Dave is wonderful and he has been an incredible support for me (he has seen me at my worst this semester, and amazingly-by the grace of God-managed to love me and continue to speak the truth of the gospel to me when I most need to hear it), but he also has a lot of responsibilities and a busy life here in Chattanooga. I treasure every moment I get to spend with him, but I am fully aware that he simply cannot fix the loneliness in this season of my life. If not for Jesus, I am not sure I could keep getting out of bed in the morning. It is only His grace and love that sustains me through the dejection I'm experiencing this semester.

I hope and believe, however, that Winter is finally coming to an end--in a literal and metaphorical sense. I am beginning to wake up to the sound of birdsong again, and the promise of sunshine and warm weather lifts my spirits and lessens my claustrophobia considerably. In addition, I am catching glimpses of the light at the end of the semester's tunnel and can start looking forward to the adventure of a new summer. It strikes me that I have a lot to look forward to, not to mention a lot to be thankful for in the here and now. I officially sent my first payment for a Shakespeare course in London this summer, which sends a thrill through my heart. It's time I begin to shake off this Winter hibernation and start actively pursuing the many adventures God has set before me in my Master's program, in Chattanooga, and wherever else He may lead.

Speaking of adventures. It's time for work, and I have a manuscript of Piers Plowman that has been patiently waiting for me.

My prayer for the semester:

In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
In the morning, when I rise
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
Give me Jesus.

When I am alone,
When I am alone,
When I am alone,
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
But give me Jesus.

When I come to die,
When I come to die,
When I come to die,
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus.