Blessed Assurance

I have less than a semester left to go at RMS. That is, unless God still wants me there. If He does, he's gonna have to make it loud and clear (aka slamming every other door in my face...HARD).

I know you're not supposed to put all of your eggs in one basket, but I've basically done just that and applied to only one program at one school. I debated whether or not to post this on here, because if I don't get in...well, I guess you're going to know. An exercise in humility, perhaps.

The program I've applied to is a creative writing fellowship at Vanderbilt (Sarah and Jen, begin my Nashville housing search with fingers crossed). Every applicant who is accepted receives full tuition plus a stipend. Can you believe that? You actually get paid to attend a top-credited program and learn how to better yourself at something you love to do anyway?? I won't find out until April, so until then my future will be very uncertain.

I hate uncertainty, and a lot of times I am fool to think that I'm singular in my uncertainty. I look around at a lot of my college friends--married, settled into long-term careers, living in houses that they own. While I know that this isn't the life God has for me right now, sometimes I can't help but envy their...routine. Routine isn't even the right word here. I envy that they lay their heads down at night without wondering where they'll be in six months, who'll they'll be with, what they'll be doing. Deep down, though, I know that all of us are afraid of uncertainty, and that uncertainty doesn't go away when you have a house in your name. Or a different last name, for that matter. Things can change in an instant, and nothing is certain, save for the Lord we put our faith in. Isn't it so comforting to know that everything is already decided by a loving God who has our best interests in mind? I can't imagine making these decisions without that reassurance.

With all that being said, here is my letter of intent that I submitted to Vanderbilt yesterday. I wasn't sure what to write, because it's hard to put into words what I hope to get out of an experience I've never had before. I'm an English major, so I can weave the BS into an intricate tapestry, but in the end I decided to go with the absolute truth. It took me about ten minutes to write and I can honestly say it was from my heart. If it doesn't work out, I'll have no regrets about what I've submitted. Hope this Sunday you are resting in the blessed assurance that you are taken care of by someone who loves you more than you'll know on this earth!

Letter of Intent

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I’ve always hated that question, as well as its successors: “What will you be doing after graduation?” “So you’re almost done with your contract--what’s next?”

In kindergarten, “I don’t know” was an acceptable response, as was “astronaut” and “dinosaur.” Now that I’m 25, the same answer carries with it a certain stigma. Saying it makes me seem short-sighted and flighty. “I don’t know,” I demur, voice laden with guilt. I quickly follow it with some sort of defense. “It’s just seems selfish to think about my future when the responsibility my young students’ futures hangs on my shoulders!”

Unlike my parents’ and grandparents’ generation, mine seems to be consumed with finding a career that really drives them. Something they’re passionate about, something that has meaning and makes a difference. It’s a lot of pressure, and I still don’t know how that translates into a career path for me.

However, you’re not reading to find out what I don’t know, so let me tell you what I do know. I know that the written word has always inspired me. When I was in elementary school, I read so often that I began to silently narrate my daily routines as if they were part of a novel, “…She slowly put her homework in her folder, absent-mindedly smoothing out the creases as she thought about the day ahead.” In high school, when my friends were complaining about having to read Catcher in the Rye, I’d already finished and gone to the library to check out Franny and Zooey. The first time I read Shakespeare, tears rolled down my cheeks and fell onto the open pages; I had never heard anything so beautiful in my life. What other silent thing can excite every emotion in a man? I’ve laughed at Huckleberry Finn, cried for Tom Robinson and hurt for Hester Prynne. My heart rejoices when I read “Pied Beauty” by Gerard Manley Hopkins, and the only man I’ve ever truly fallen in love with is Mr. Darcy.

What power these words carry with them, and what power those hold who can master them. I think about my students, 14 years old and barely literate. Their ability to read well and write well could save them from their bleak futures. Their words would soar above the projects and lift them out of there, for they have far more stories to tell than I. What other silent thing can turn a tragic reality into something achingly beautiful?

So why am I applying to your Creative Writing program? I, too, would like to brandish my pen and bring grown men to tears. I’d like to write a story and make people laugh. I’d like to write something that inspires, excites and amuses, and I’d like to go to Vanderbilt to learn how. I believe your program is a perfect fit for me; looking at the coursework, I think that I would be stretched as a writer and emerge more comfortable with a variety of styles within the genre. The workshops master the delicate balance between time spent refining students’ own work and studying examples of great literature. This is important to me, because I think that both are vital to the development of the craft. Maybe you can even help me pen an eloquent response to the question, “What are you going to do after graduation?”