Ladies and gentlemen, it's official. I graduated from college.
Now, of course, May 15 was the day I received my diploma and took 10,876 pictures in my sweat-soaked polyester graduation gown.
But I haven't really "felt" like a graduate until today.
I lived today in a new role that not only changed how I see myself, but also how I see other people. My professors and other Campbell faculty are now colleagues. Incoming freshman seem so young and so babyfaced-- me only four years ago. I've jumped to the next lillypad in life.
And it's weird.
Usually at Campbell events I don't need to know where to go or what to do because someone else makes the plans and herds us around. Today I was one of the the ones answering questions (sometimes with the wrong answer) and appearing to students and parents as the where the information buck stops.
As unusual as the day was, it was enlightening and enjoyable. I grew to know better my Campus Ministry colleagues. I saw a lot of puzzled looks from other Campbell staff who were wondering why this "I've never seen you before" girl has an official name tag (by the way, it's magnetic and awesome).
I spent a few minutes observing the incoming freshman. The girls wore their favorite clothes and their shiniest lip gloss. The guys put on airs of nonchalance, of course. We had preppy kids, tech geeks, jocks, shy kids, and your average Joes and Josephines who are okay with collecting at least 15 orange shirts over the next four years.
I guess I was a little sad I was no longer one of them. I became very comfortable with college life. I was good at it. Now I have a new life that I'm 85% unfamiliar with, and sometimes it's overwhelming, but really-- what do I have to fear? My dream job, a community I've grown to love, or awesome colleagues? I'm the weakest part of that equation because of the doubts I lay on myself.
This summer I have a different and new purpose at Campbell, and I'm embracing it once crooked brick at a time.
I've been hanging out with one of the best kept secrets around: the immigrant families of Angier, North Carolina.
Of course it's no secret Angier is home to many immigrant and migrant worker families. The secret, however, is that they matter and that they contribute to grace more than any other sub-culture I've come in contact with.
Immigrants and migrant familes easily become invisible to those of an outside culture. They blend in as "just another Mexican" and as part of the Southeast's skyrocketing Hispanic population.
Someone needs to speak for these personas, people, and tell their story. Someone needs to be their representative against the unspoken, cyclical forces that imprison them in poverty and poor health.
I don't know the details of the life of any one student, but I've gethered some general information about most of the students. They have siblings they love and fight with, friends they miss in a far-away land, and parents who work too much for too little money.
Sound familiar?
It's the story of so many Americans from every color in the rainbow and every generation since the American Revolution. The only difference is that for most of us, red tape, cultural hurdles, and ignorance didn't prevent us from learning how to read, getting a job, or having our kids vaccinated.
These children are happy to have a summer free of teachers and homework. They love to play in the water and watch movies with their friends. They like hugs and the little boys blush when the college girls smile at them.
What will happen if we ignore an entire generation of children because of paperwork and owed taxes? Hopefully we won't have to find out.
For those of you who just graduated from college, you understand how this summer is so different from all others in my life. No summer reading, no tuition payments, no moving back to student housing. This summer arrived with a new purpose-- to mark the beginning of my life as an adult.
And if you want to hear a story about blessings, you've come to the right place. I left Campbell with a degree in Communication Studies, but my concentration was in print journalism. Since high school I knew my future lied in a news room. I wanted to use writing to tell the stories of the invisible layers of society-- those who couldn't tell their own story.
The job hunt begin in January. Elliot and I hunted the Web for openings at community newspapers from the North Carolina mountains up to Washington, D.C. I had interview after interview, raise hopes after raised hopes. Some openings proved promising in the last week of April when I had four interviews. Needless to say, I was surprised to be getting so many bites in a time when not only are jobs scarce, but newspapers are a casualty of the technology war.
The end of April also brought Operation Inasmuch, which I was helping the university to cover as part of the media team. At a park in Erwin I saw our campus minister, Faithe Beam. Conversations with Faithe are typically enlightening, but little did I know how much our chat that day would change my life (and Elliot's life).
I updated Faithe on my promising job leads. I was prepared to graduate and take a reporting position, no questions asked. It's what I had wanted for a long time and I had worked hard to prepare for a life as a journalist.
As it turned out, God had been preparing me for the last four years-- but not to become a journalist (at least not right away). He had been honing my communication, writing, speaking and Spanish skills in order to make sure I would be ready for the job He basically dropped in my lap the day I spoke with Faithe.
In the last three months or so, God has given me a fantastic job, a new place to live, time to see family, and the excitement of my upcoming marriage to Elliot. He has given me a new life to make my own with what He has given me.
He makes all things new.
