I never thought too much about my identity. I was quite happy if I could make it from the car to the kitchen without having a grocery bag split. But then came this particular morning.
As I stood in the kitchen, I had this mysterious, frightening feeling of transparency. Frantic, I tried to think back to the last remembrance I had of myself. I could remember being a `wonderful daughter,' a `very best friend,' a `try-very-hard wife,' a `do-the-best-I-can mother,' and a `reach out Christian'.
This trip down memory lane took me back to a picnic just one year prior. At that time a friend suggested taking a course in scripture. My response was, "What would I want to do that for?" Suddenly that morning, I knew the `what for' — for me! I felt myself become excited, then frightened, then anxious, determined, doubtful — on and on through a galaxy of emotions.
Knowing that this friend would be teaching the course in scripture again that summer at the Institute of Pastoral Studies, I gave the Institute a call and told them of my wish to attend the course. Through my insistence I got the `head hotshot' in the `Top Hotshot Office' on the phone and was told in a most kindly manner that I might have some difficulty matriculating. (What in blue blazes was that???) Well! I let him know that I was a married woman with four children who could probably matriculate circles around him!!! A call to my friend `matriculated' me.
Those six weeks this past summer were an education from beginning to end. What I learned in the classroom was almost secondary to what I had to learn to be there. I learned how to drive in and out of heavy duty construction equipment without losing my cool — in fact, almost looking like I belonged there. (It seems on my first day I got lost trying to find a parking lot and ended up in a construction zone.)
I learned it was too expensive to eat breakfast in a restaurant each morning just so I could leave my car in their lot for the two hour class. And the next day I learned I had to run very fast to beat the tow truck to my car if I didn't eat breakfast there. Resorting then to public transportation, I re-learned that I get claustrophobic riding the underground trains. So it was either buy breakfast each morning, outrun the tow truck, ride the train with my hand over my screaming mouth, or drive a crane to school and park in the construction zone.
Once in class I learned when you raise your hand and are acknowledged, your throat gurgles and your tongue hardens. This strange occurrence seems to disappear the instant the next person says what you intended to say had you come out of shock in time to say it.
I learned the stupid question I was sure was just too dumb to even ask was the `excellent question' he was just waiting for. Drat!!!
I learned that the fancy sounding word you only used to appear super-intelligent is the very word that will baffle the person you're trying to impress. (Try and get out of that one with a shred of self-respect!)
I learned there are so many things to learn, and being afraid to appear stupid is the one way of insuring I would be. That being ashamed of who I was, was the most shameful thing I could have done to who I am. That between my high school diploma and the Institute of Pastoral Studies are sixteen years of pure wisdom acquired at the most permanent level, experience.
So in the kitchen now, I can see on the table next to the children's school books a few belonging to me. Now `this little light of mine' that used to bring warmth and illumination to our home can also be seen one night a week at Triton College. And the future? I'm not ready to say much about that yet. There's nothing stopping me now because I've learned perhaps the most important thing of all — to believe in myself.