Liminal, Part One

I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but right now I am busy. November is just starting, and it feels like everything is kicking into overdrive. I have to start big projects for my classes; I’m behind on my thesis work; I discovered I have to present at a conference in the spring and the proposal is due on Monday; my students are beginning their big research paper; I’m answering texts and emails about Christmas presents, group projects, final essays, revision, and hey-are-you-going-to-be-in-town-this-month?

Honestly, I had to carve out the time to write this blog with a paring knife.

Don’t worry about me, though—I thrive in this kind of environment (so long as I don’t speed up, my favorite stop on the FASTER scale, which I talk about more in this blog). My point is that yes, this time of year is very busy, but at the same time I still find plenty of moments to think about the past and the future.

I’m in my second year of graduate school. It’s also my final year. Those two-year programs really zip by, don’t they? And because I did my undergraduate degree at this same university, I’ve been at Point Loma Nazarene University for six years. I’ve been at PLNU so long there’s a different university president and they no longer offer my major. Go figure.

It’s weird to think about leaving.

I’ve spent a long time in San Diego, pursuing higher education on this campus with a spectacular view of the ocean. In the midst of all the hard parts, it’s a good life. I keep reminding myself of that. Even though I’m being stretched so much right now, teaching my very first classroom, trying to finish a novel, and marketing my poetry book, I still sometimes stop and look back at all the things I’ve done, all the life I’ve lived, and all that I’ve learned from this season of life. Right now, I feel very deeply the sense that all of this is ending soon, sooner than I think, and I’ll be moving on to something new. Which isn’t bad; in fact, it’s a really healthy and good thing. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still sad something is ending.

There’s value in looking back and remembering.

When I think about how I stopped kayaking, changed my major, fell back in love with reading, published poetry books (first and second) and made dear friends, I’m so proud of myself. When I think about how I fell apart, battled an eating disorder, encountered broken friendship after broken friendship, I’m so proud of myself.

I want to remember that I’ve grown so much. I want to remember the time I had with my friends when we were all learning the same material. I want to remember small group nights with my church group, eating meals together. I want to remember discussing writing with my cohort, laughing during night classes.

Most of all, when I look back I want to remember how loved I was, and how loved I am.

Remembering doesn’t have to always be lament. Remembering can also be celebration. Both have their value, and both are crucial for us to thrive—because the faithful path is a lifelong journey, and we have to remember what we’ve experienced and learned along the way so we can be sustained.

What’s a little funny about ending my educational journey (at least for now) is that I’m one of the only ones in my cohort feeling this way right now. Most everyone else isn’t looking at the future or feeling nostalgic until, like, March. Which is long after I’ve made the transition. In fact, the only person in my cohort who’s in a “remembering and looking forward and backward” mode is Maya, who I’ve written about in a previous blog. Maya and I used to be friends, then we weren’t, and it was the end of our relationship that helped me realize I needed to make different friends. Now, we’re friendly again, which I’m taking at face-value. She’s applying to other programs so she’s thinking a lot about transitions and liminal spaces between past and future. We don’t talk about it a lot, but it’s nice knowing I’m not the only person who’s feeling this way.

Taking international time to remember the past, especially during a time of transition, is valuable in many ways. It’s important to remember the lessons, the joys, the celebrations, the growth, and the sheer amazing-ness that is going from one space to another. From my years in school at PLNU, I want to remember all the love, and how I’m worthy of it. My education is important too (and the tangible takeaway, hello degrees!) but when I look back I’m not thinking of walking across the stage—I’m thinking about sitting outside a classroom, laughing with my friends.

Next week I’ll write about how remembering can also be about looking to things that haven’t happened yet. A liminal space, and a space of transition, can be about remembrance two ways: back and forward. Both are valuable, and both have important roles to play in our walk along the faithful path.

This Sunday, come to church for our Service of Remembering.

In the same way that there’s value in remembering as a student, there’s value in remembering as a church and as followers of Jesus. Where have we been? The answers to that question can help guide us in our walk on the faithful path. Taking time as a church to have an entire service dedicated to remembering centers us as a congregation and reminds us of who we are and whose we are.