The Past Six Months

Have been rather uneventful and quiet. I'm now approaching my seven-month mark here in the USA. It's hard to believe. When you first arrive anywhere, you feel like a visitor. When you know the lay of the land, it's a really enchanting place to be. When I first arrived here, I definitely felt as if I--as a visitor--had lots to learn and take from this delightful city, that was also my home.

Of course the longer one remains in visitor mode, the less and less appealing it gets. After a while, that slips away and you simply become a ghost, going thought day-to-day tasks and ignoring the things that used to be so exciting. Constantly worrying about the future, excessively saving money--and then binging later. Being this kind of visitor--a permanent visitor--becomes exhaustively lonely.

The next step in my life is looming over me without a lot of nice things to say. I vaguely remember my terror before I went to Hamline. I remember how exhausted I was with stretched relationships from high school, how anxious I was to leave that place and start new, in a place with fewer restrictions, especially on the types of relationships that were available to me. I had no idea what was possible, and that was the most difficult part. I believed it would be just as difficult, and in exactly the same ways, that all my previous experiences had been. And I didn't have the energy to meet my old life with a new face again.

This is how I feel about Chicago. There are a lot of things I'm going into blind, but there are more things that I think I know a thing or two about. I'm scared of the overly academic mumbo-jumbo that I see written all over the place. I'm scared of the overly difficult questions posed by the people there--an academic tool that I fear will be used to pull me away from the things that ignite my life. I am afraid that I will be tethered to this academic jargon, and pulled away from every day people with it. It is much the same way that my English vocabulary and eloquence fell away after a year in Korea. I know that I am naturally introverted, cautious, and a deep thinker. But I have worked hard to become something above that. I cannot let it atrophy, and I already feel the effects of it here, sitting in my dark town home, far away from the kind of boisterousness that keeps me going.

Then, of course, there is the classic fear, the one I felt before Hamline. "What if, in the end, I just don't fit?" Hamline was a big school with a lot of different people. Chicago is a bigger school with even more different people. But graduate programs are tight knit and close, and with their demands, they rarely wander away. And what about all the oddities in my character: the year abroad, the year teaching, the devotion to the women's center, the irreverence for academic inquiry, and a serious desire only to make a difference in a community? Even as I type these things, I realize that this is an irrelevant question. Many of the people I met when I visited had spent time abroad. Many of the people I met were in similar situations to me.

I also feel a similar anxiousness to my first few years at Hamline. There was a particular moment, when I was bored at work, in my first semester, when I began looking up all the history courses that were offered. And it dawned on me, after reading them several times over, that there were no courses in Classical history. No Rome, no Greece--nothing before the modern era. I choked a little, now suddenly aware that I had come to a place that was not what I thought it was. The same is happening now, as I browse for courses. I see no liberation theology course, no social justice oriented theories. Only courses on serious theologians that I've never heard of before.

Then, of all my fears, there is this one. With three courses considered a full course load, I will have very little time for serious language work. I am so committed to Arabic language. I am so, sincerely, utterly devoted to learning it. But I chose a Christian degree program, with several electives, yes, but with its own biblical language requirements, and all of them with reading goals, not speaking. My biggest fear at this point is that I will be unable to accomplish all of these things--that at the last minute, I will be convinced, once again, that I do not have time for Arabic. I cannot be convinced of that. Fluency in Arabic may be the only thing capable of paying off these enormous loans.

Obviously I will need to have a serious discussion with my adviser right away. My language commitments may cause me to be unable to do the dual degree program that I am so interested in. But I may also be able to do both degrees separately. If I still maintain a commitment to Minneapolis--and particularly to the Somali community, as I have now--it may be more advantageous for me to take a public policy degree at the Humphrey.

There are a lot of unknowns in all of this, and like I said at the beginning, I can see a lot more of the scary ones that I can the happy ones.

I had a dream the other day which spoke to all of these fears. I dreamed that I had to say goodbye to all the Somali ladies, the moms of the kids that I work with. I had to explain to them that I was leaving, but it wasn't because I was moving. It was because I had died. I had come back as a ghost to explain to them why I wouldn't be with there anymore. That is what I am most afraid of, that the part of me who is able to be a member of this hodgepodge, chaotic, and beautiful community--the part of me that worked so hard to not be afraid of such sincere interaction--that part of me will die if I go to academia. Part of me insists that it has to, because I don't want anyone or anything to replace this place in my mind.

So, I have a lot of fears. And very little assurance that they will be answered. Then there is logistics, the nightmare of moving my things, transporting my life, finding housing, paying for it--everything seems too difficult to swallow. But I know that I will get it done soon. I know it will come together in a couple months. I know that I'll feel safer soon. At least I hope so.

Happy Easter!

Easter never used to be one of my favorite holidays, but over the years of "adulthood", I've really started to value it more and more. In the Christian sense, its a holiday about triumph over suffering, pain, and (especially for Mary Magdalene) total loss. When you think everything has been taken from you--even the body of a beloved teacher--suddenly all that pain is conquered by a new life that defies all common sense. In the 'pagan' sense, Easter celebrates the return of spring, and the time when the earth shakes back to life, wakes up as if out of a dream. In a consumerist sense, it's a great excuse for some amazing chocolate, and although a lot of people rail against the "consumerising" of Easter, I take a great deal of childish pleasure out of my Cadbury eggs and chocolate bunnies. Honestly, I don't see anything wrong with that, because the little bit of childish delight over chocolate is in my mind a token of the joy that comes along with renewed life. It's not the whole thing of it, at least, so there's no reason to reject it.

Since it's about new life, Easter is also a good day to set new resolutions, since by now all the new year's resolutions from January have obviously been tossed out the window. I figure it's best to set resolutions for a maximum of six months anyhow, since that's really the length of my attention span. At least for the next few weeks, I want to make an effort to be more present with my time. While I was trying to make a decision over graduate school, I got overwhelmed and let other things take over my life, so that I wasn't using my personal time to actually rejuvenate. Mostly I was just sleeping or watching tv or just fretting over school. So, I guess, as I celebrate new life, I also am making a commitment to it, so that I can be a little bit more present. (Baby steps, though, the real goal is to actually be awake BEFORE I get on my bus in the morning, thus spending the morning preparing for the day instead of desperately trying to cram in more sleep.)

I went to church with my mum at the Minneapolis Episcopal Cathedral (St. Marks) which is just a great church. I'm looking forward to getting more involved this summer, because in addition to that traditional-ness that I like, it's also deeply involved in community service and education.

So over the past few weeks I've been deeply ingrained in a decision-making process, which is almost, but not entirely, finished. I had some serious things to consider, a lot of inspiration, some things that let me down, and what I think will be blessings in disguise.

I took a trip to visit both Harvard Divinity School and the University of Chicago Divinity School in the first week of April. I learned a lot about my situation when I visited the schools, and I gained a lot of insight into why I was so nervous.

The first of these concerns was that I wanted an applied degree. I had originally applied for an academic degree, arguing that I wanted to study Islam so that our public better understood it, and so that I could search out stories that had been untouched. As I looked at tuition bills, course schedules, and degree requirements, though, I really felt like I didn't want to do all that. I did want to know more about the Qur'an, and I wanted to speak Arabic, and I wanted to study the history, but my biggest concern was that I wanted to do it in context, and I was deeply concerned that the degree I was pursuing would not allow me the time or the consideration to put my studies to use in our world today. The work that I do at the Women's Center empowers me and is a huge part of what I believe is healthy community involvement. It isn't the end-all-be-all, but it did teach me that academic inquiry is the gateway to becoming all of myself, not the final goal.

So the first thing that I learned about my trip was the most definitive: I want an applied degree, and I want a Master of Divinity.

At Harvard I felt really excited about all the amazing things that were happening there. It felt really amazing to be around other people who were passionate about the same things as me. But, what I gained from Harvard was a renewed passion and a sincere reality check: when I had my discussion with the financial aid director, it became very clear that taking on the necessary debt would be a very irresponsible thing to do. I left the school knowing that there was absolutely no way, but more importantly, I felt inspired in some ways, because I knew now more than ever what I wanted to do.

So I visited the University of Chicago, and the mood was extremely different. A much more academic school, its goal is really to prepare students to become professors. I struggled through some of the Master of Arts discussion, then went into the Dean of Students office, and said, point blank: "I think I want an MDiv instead." Her response was: "YES! Of course! I knew that as soon as you asked that question in the forum..."

And in some ways, that was really want sealed the deal. I had a discussion with the Director of Ministry Studies, went to an MDiv dinner at her home with the other prospective and current students, and listened to a little bit of what they were doing. I wasn't madly in love with the program or the school, but I had a much more realistic connection with Chicago than I had with Harvard: the program was close, sincere, and devoted to what they were doing. The faculty were close with the students, and field work was a major priority for MDiv students. Financially, the environment was more sound because I knew that I could earn my living expenses, partially because they were more reasonable, and because more students worked. I was also really inspired by Chicago itself and the neighborhood that the school was in. I did not feel as though I was in an elitist place, nor did I feel too 'unrefined' to exist in that world. It had a sense of authenticity that I really felt good about.

When I returned home, my major decision was not between schools. It was between taking the opportunity in front of me at Chicago, or staying another year in Minneapolis working for the community that is important to me here. It was between taking on new debt, or waiting before I incured more. It was about going through an open door, or waiting to see what other doors opened if I waited. It was between taking another year to learn from the community, or going into a place where I can be all of myself at the same time.

I had a lot of questions. Now that I knew I wanted an MDiv, could I find a school that would give me total financial aid? Would I become a disconnected academic who was disengaged from the community? Would I have time for my personal life, my art, and my writing? Could I handle postponing my dreams for another year?


In the end, I chose to attend the University of Chicago for a Master of Divinity. It was mostly for the community, the closeness of the cohort, and their willingness to help me do what I felt called to do. But most of all, it was about potential growth, and the amazing opportunities that I could pursue there. It was not as wide and diverse, perhaps as Harvard, but it also was less overwhelming. It has strength in its specialty, which for me can be a very valuable thing: a more succinct program can help reel me in. Although I was at first reluctant to choose a school I was less enthusiastic about, I thought about other experiences I had, and realized that in the end, I WAS more enthusiastic about my life in Chicago. From there, the decision was obvious.

I'm nervous now about how I will have to change to be a successful graduate student. I worry that I may not have time to engage with real people, or I may become too intellectually obsessed to be approachable by just a man on the street. But, I feel confident that I can navigate away from those things, and that I have what it takes to beat those things. The life of a university student is really who I am, and although I always want to expand myself, stretch my comfort zone, and have a tangible effect in my community, I know that in order to do it right, the core of who I am must be at home. Then I will truly have the strength I need to always become something more, and to really make an impact in my world.